Untold Attraction
by UglyTruth
Summary: Alison and Frankie share some physical moments but love is something else entirely. Obsession borders on blood lust, fear transforms into bravery and when it comes down to it, maybe humanity will overcome the vampire. Explores some scenes from the movie.
1. Waking

Daybreakers

_**Untold Attraction**_

_Charles Bromley's Office, Bromley Marks _

The very first thought that sauntered into her mind, was that she felt cold. Every single hair on her body had risen into goose flesh and truth be told, she didn't enjoy the sensation. What made the entire situation more severe in her clearing head was that she only ever found the temperature to be so low in vampire housing.

Her eyes were open before she could even feel the rest of her limbs coming back to awareness and she saw exactly what she had feared. But in the following seconds, she realized that she had expected nothing of what she found in front of her. The room screamed expensive from the spotless glass table to the straight-backed sofas that illuminated the room with white leather. This was the last place she'd anticipated herself to be when she came round. Chained up, drugged to the gills and hooked onto a machine would have been a more fitting picture.

Straining herself into an upright position on the edge of the uncomfortable piece of furniture, she turned where she sat, taking in the rest of the ethereally lit office, noting how there were no wooden objects whatsoever. Not that she had rationally expected to find any, but a glimmer of hope never hurt. It had kept her alive for the past few years.

Her gaze drifted around the room in a few frenzied heartbeats but failed to spot the camera, carefully concealed in the neon lighting of the walls. Her chances had already been slim when she'd regained consciousness and now they had diminished into nothing. Painfully unaware of this as she was, she followed her resurfacing instincts as her eyes landed on the objects, carelessly left on the sheet of glass in front of her. Barely an arm's reach away, laid the weapon she had immediately been seeking out.

It was nestled innocently between the untouched marble ashtray and a letter of bulging content, to which she paid no attention. She knew she didn't have long to ponder her decisions and her fingers clenched around the icy handle of the letter opener as though they had been molded onto it. Her only protection in the world right now. She'd tried to desperately to evade this and simply ended up sucked right into the eye of the cyclone.

She was on her feet now, her cells tingling with need to be active in this hostile environment. She kept the weapon securely tucked against her side as she dove for her belongings. Of course, that was the moment the doors on the opposite side of the polished room had to slide open, bathing the setting in more unnatural light. Her breath hitched in her throat as she saw him step out.

Her first reaction was not even provoked by his frozen appearance; he had looked just the same when she had fled as a young teenager, almost a child. So immature and yet she had refused to accept the life he had chosen for herself, knowing the evils it brought upon the soul. Even though she was too young to comprehend the entire meaning of the disease, she'd known it the second her father had set those golden eyes on her. She could never be the daughter he wanted. She would never let herself be filled with the bloodlust that made him into the man he was now.

Those eyes were set on her again, judging, calculating and assessing her disheveled appearance. Disapproving. That part of him had obviously not been erased by his vampirism. Groomed hair, stainless suit, clean face; yes, her father had definitely not ceased from being his old perfectionist self. Just the way he looked her up and down made a sensation of inadequateness roll down her spine and she could not help but sneak a glance at her very ragged, rumpled clothing.

Unfortunately, as her gaze briefly drifted down, so did his, and landed on the reflective object in her fist. His head tilted slightly as he clicked his tongue, almost as though he was tutting at her five-year-old form for naughty behavior and his eyebrow rose as though to mock her, _Do you seriously think that will get you anywhere? _

Then his voice cut the simmering silence hanging over them, the gruff tones smoothed out into a reassuring drawl, "You don't need that"

Not even his voice had changed a fraction, excluding the simple, clipped words that he used in her presence instead of the fatherly warmth he had once exhibited. Not in his new life. Eternal life apparently didn't require much emotion. The way he gestured to the object in her hand made her feel put on the spot and she cursed herself for not hiding it in her sleeve while she had the chance. He had vampire senses; of course he would pick up on the tiniest detail.

Her head slumped on her shoulders and she stared at the makeshift knife with something akin to shame. Had she really been naive enough to assume this piece of sharpened glass would get her out of the building alive? Save her from possibly hundreds of vampires infesting the rooms. Stupid. She didn't even know what floor she was on, what building she was in, couldn't even comprehend how she had gotten from the caravan to…wherever here was. A city? Her hometown? Her father's workplace? His new mansion?

So many unanswered questions that she had not been able to consider in the few short seconds of her reawakening. All she could focus on was the fear that was striking her to the core that the once so familiar, comforting image of her father had been distorted right in front of her and she was now being told by an absolute stranger, "You are safe here, I promise."

But fear needed to be harnessed. She could not afford to show her terror in front of the perhaps only trustworthy person she would find. The only one she knew. Her trembling hand clenched around the opener as she raised her gaze back to him, goose bumps rising again as her tangled hair brushed over her exposed collarbone. It was so cold in here. Her look of inquiry signaled nothing of her discomfort though as she straightened her shoulders, "Where are my friends?"

That, he held no answer for. Or if he did, he chose to ignore the question that shakily passed her lips. His response was to step into the expanse of the four walls enclosing her, advancing towards her with slow steps as though he was approaching a timid animal. Was that what she was to him? It wouldn't even surprise her if he thought that of her. Fragile. Weak. Human. Her breathing grew rapid again and she instantly moved away from the narrow space between couch and coffee table to distance herself. He let it pass, though it didn't go unnoticed. He had her terrified and struggling to swallow her fear and he knew it.

His surface expression remained melancholy though and a fleeting ripple of gentleness passed over the stony features as he closed in on her. She could have sworn those frozen gold eyes were glassy. His eyes roved over her with something that reminded perhaps of faint fatherly admiration as he whispered, "You look so beautiful. You've grown up so much"

Many, many months ago, an entire lifetime ago as it felt to her, she would have received that look gratefully, knowing her father was pleased with her. However, given the situation she had been stranded in, she was simply petrified by the surrealism of it all. Her body responded with adrenalin kicks as a result of her increasing fear. Her chest heaved with rapid breaths and her blood ran cold in her veins. Her body practically sizzled with the desire to flee as he strode closer to her with every word. She was backing away, even though she tried to stand her ground but the supernatural vibe had her struggling, despite his reassuring words.

He stopped his advance mere inches away from her, squaring his shoulders and gazing down upon her in a manner that may have been protective but only sent chills down her limbs. She knew she had to calm herself and hear him out, keep him centered on his apparent joy upon seeing her. Her face morphed into an expression of desperation as she pleaded with him.

"Dad, please" Her voice was steady and any tremor in it would have been justified as worry for her fellow humans. Most likely, there weren't many left to worry about.

She could almost feel his body sigh at her request but once again he avoided her question and instead searched her face with those unnaturally stark iris' of his and continued to declare his stirred up feelings to his daughter. His act was spot on, she noted, so exact that it almost seems genuine.

"I'm so happy to see you," he paused as though struggling to breathe normally through his emotion, "I never thought I'd see you again, sweetheart"

It was too much. That face, the movements, that voice but all of it a façade. She allowed his hand to curve along the back of her skull, allowed him to press her close to him in a gesture of comfort but really, the tears flowing down her cold cheeks to soak his suit were not those of relief at their reunion. They were traces of regret that he had ended up this way. That she would never have her true father back, holding her like this, telling her, "You're safe now, you're safe" in that cool but always reassuring deep voice. Most of all, it was regret that he had chosen to be this way.

The Vampire in him was evident, not only in his eyes. She knew she was making the right decision all along but when his fingers glided over her tangled strands and he whispered the words into her ear, she felt that he next move was perhaps the most appropriate thing she had ever done to her father. His cold flesh brushed past her neck as he finished his sentence, "But your friends…there's nothing I can do. I'm sorry"

It was enough to make her pull away.

She locked her wide eyes on his visage, drank in every aspect of his carefully placed features of misery that failed to impress her. This was how she wanted to remember him, to remind herself that she had made the correct choice every time somebody tried to convince her otherwise. Emotionless. Bloodthirsty. Undead. Then she hurled all her anger out in a single sentence and shoved him away as she yelled, "You're _not_ sorry!"

She didn't even turn to look at him as she ran to the elevator he had entered from, did not listen to his gasp of surprise as he felt the wound she had ripped into his eternally preserved vampire flesh and saw the spreading red blotch on his shirt. Only when she tightened her grip on the dripping weapon and turned to ensure he did not make a move to restrain her, she met his disbelieving face. She could not help but embrace the smugness that rolled through her at the sight of him - finally caught off guard and by his own very human daughter at that. He was frozen where he was, pressing a hand to the wound, even though it could not be deep enough to prove fatal.

The blow was all that mattered. She may not have been attracted to violence in the way other humans were in order to survive but this felt like a victory. It was written all over his face as he realized, she would never believe another word from him. A crazed smile began to form on her lips. She heard the soft noise of the elevator doors gliding open and saw the light spill over the stained carpet in front of her. She would escape. He still didn't move. Almost like he was too stunned to comprehend what his own flesh and blood had done.

She whipped around on the spot, leaving the sight of the graying man behind her as she headed into the elevator. She should have known there would be more resistance than her father to face. She barely had time to blink at the armed soldier before her as his weapon descended on her and hit its target with a precision that left her on the ground, out cold for second time in this day.


	2. Prison

_Bromley Marks, Basement, Confinement Cell #27_

She was alone again when her consciousness returned. She was also back in a horizontal position, though on a much more uncomfortable surface. Her back ached and her muscles contracted painfully as she rolled herself into a sitting position, massaging her forehead gingerly. There were questions rolling around in her head again, some of them stupid questions, some unimportant ones too and all without answers. First and foremost - what is going to happen to me? 

Her father may have planned this. He may have not. He may have had no other choice but to throw her in here, now that she had made it crystal-clear that her loyalties still led with her dying race rather than with the only family she had left. The only relative she had ever had really. But to trap her in a cell? It only confirmed her knowledge of vampires' emotionless state when it came down to it.

Human life had no value other than being sustained in order to survive on their blood. A human injures you; you either drain them yourself or hand them over to a farming facility. So why was she confined yet again instead of being sucked empty? Wouldn't she deserve such treatment after stabbing him? Questions with no answers.

Her eyes began to scan her surroundings, habit kicking in once more as she sought to distract herself from what could be and might happen. Her mind needed to be occupied with something other than painting pictures of her impending death, however it may come upon her. Perhaps a simple cut of her throat? No, what a waste. She would be drained first. Probably alive to elongate her period of usefulness.

She shook the speculations away with effort. Thinking about it made her sick to the stomach. Instead she began to let her body do the analyzing, running her fingers along the seams of the room, the texture of the concrete walls and the feeble warmth of the embedded white lights. No secret doors of course.

There were no stains on the ground but somehow she felt it in her body that there had been creatures in this very space who had spent their last moments on this floor. That didn't exactly comfort her. She paced the perimeter of the cell a few times, counting each step without even being fully aware of it. None of these steps were taking her closer to freedom anyway. A sound akin to a laugh escaped her mouth as she realized that in here might actually be the closest she would come to safety. Just how pitiful could you get?

She sank down into the darkest corner she could find, legs angled as closely as possible to her body with her arms tucked around them. It was all she could do to stay sane in this world that was slowly decomposing into savage demons that would sink their teeth into another, hiding behind their human faces.

Her back felt wedged between the two walls and she could feel the cold settling on her skin through the thin top. Where her jacket had gone, she couldn't recollect. Someone must have taken it off her. Maybe they wanted to kill her through hypothermia, she mused bitterly.

Her lids gradually slackened to shield her eyes from the glare of the lights that tinged everything in ethereal blues and grays. She was tired. Tired of so many things that could not even compare to her physical fatigue. Letting go of the waking world, even for only a few hours, grew simpler and simpler with every minute. A tiny part of her wished that she'd never open her eyes again. She just wanted to stop fighting and stop feeling that crushing fear wherever she travelled.

She had never felt seriously suicidal before in her entire life but sometimes…sometimes she wondered if it would not be easier to end this existence.

Become immortal? No. She'd not once considered it. Her father's pleading had stayed in her mind for the first few months after her departure but she'd never played with the offer seriously. Never. Her resolution had solidified in these years of separation. She would not become a vampire. Not if anybody's will was forced upon her, not even to save another human. She'd rather die for that person than become something like _that_. Death was different. Death would be final, the way out that was her choice alone, not that of her father.

Her head finally slumped onto her knees as she let sleep conquer her for the time being. There was an unknown amount of time left for her, maybe just a few minutes and she wanted to find peace for those moments until she would be faced with new horrors. She knew they'd come, inevitably, but for now she dusted the worries away along with her hope for a miracle.

The days started molding together, forming a continuous flow of time right past her. Sometimes a meal was placed into her confinement, a plate of instant-noodles or a packet that she recognized as beef jerky. No fresh food, since that had been discarded from these facilities. To them it was useless after all, merely an aid in keeping their human livestock healthy. But even they only received nutrition from a tube into their bodies. Who needed a personal greenhouse full of beans and tomatoes if they could not satiate their body with it?

She was grateful for the regular servings somewhat, as they had been scarce these past few years but with each plate of food always came new suspicion. The first time she had awoken to an unexpected lunch, she had left it untouched for at least three hours, believing it to be poisoned before her body betrayed her and had her grasp the cold bowl with eager fingers. She spent the remainder of the day waiting for her body to shut down on itself or to convulse in pain. But no evidence of poison appeared.

The second day she spent less time resisting and gulped down the entire contents within moments. By the third meal, the only confusion remaining was about what motivation her father could possibly have to keep her alive. If it wasn't for blood harvesting, what could it be?

On the fourth day she didn't even question the presence of the heated beans that were brought in and placed next to the door. She had toyed with the idea of making a dash for it when the door opened, but the possibility of her being able to overpower the guard was almost zero and the likelihood of her even making it to the main entrance of wherever she was, even less. So she settled upon digging into the food she was given and juggling with different theories of what could be fueling these acts of, as she grudgingly admitted, kindness.

By the time what felt like another day passed, she was not only beginning to feel the lack of fresh oxygen and sunlight tugging on her, but she felt increasingly like a caged animal. Walking up and down the length of the room reminded her of the predatory big cats she had seen at a zoo almost a decade ago. They had also prowled the sides of their barred homes repetitively. Back then, her father had soothed her anger at those 'cruel zoo keepers' by explaining that animals of such danger need to be locked behind bars so they wouldn't attack people that simply want to marvel at them.

A dry smile stole itself onto her mouth as she thought of herself, here, in the same position. She? The dangerous one who ripped people's throats out? What a joke.

What _really_ bothered her was the constant blue-white light. It hurt her eyes whenever she reverted to staring at a random spot on the grainy walls. She figured that her constant sleepiness interlocked with her to inability to tell whether it was day or night. She could hear when the guard outside was replaced once a day, which meant that it was shortly before the crack of dawn because the day shift started before sunrise in order for most vampires to lock themselves in the safe haven of their homes.

Her meals were also an indication of around mid-day but after that time seemed to pass either too slowly or very quick. She killed her time with sleeping and then walking off the excess energy and restlessness in the limited space she had.

In moments where sudden anger and desperation overcame her, when she thought about where the other humans from the convoy must be right now while she was vegetating away in this dingy cell, fed and safe from the outside world, she would pound her fists against the door. She would kick against the neon lights and beat the walls aimlessly until she collapsed with exhaustion and the adrenalin washed away, leaving her feeling helpless all over again. These moments seemed to gain in frequency the longer she was left in her solitude. She grew afraid of losing it altogether and maybe succumbing to the next person she'd see. Letting herself be fed on.

If they ever let her out that was.

By the sixth morning she told herself she was done feeling sorry for herself and contemplating what could and may happen, when clearly, nothing terrible was going to occur anytime soon. There had been no messages from her father, no threats from the guard who brought her food and certainly not a single doctor who had tied her up and shoved a needle into her bloodstream. She was somewhat convinced that she'd been forgotten for the time being. Her father would return to her at a later stage, when he thought she would have been driven to a point of agreeing with his notions.

It was time to forge a plan.

Perhaps not a foolproof one, since she had close to no idea what she was up against, but a reasonable one that would somehow, with an impossible amount of luck attached, get her out of this place. Her mind sketched plans, which she scribbled out and renewed over and over again. Every single time, they ended up focusing on the guard that visited her with her daily bunch of calories. She couldn't get out of this cellar of a room by drilling holes in the walls so she would need to use other opportunities. Inconveniently, there were no bathroom runs allowed for her, so she'd helped herself to a corner of the room in order to get things out of her system. Not that she cared about such trivial things anymore but that fact ruled out another opportunity of escape.

They weren't going to let her out of the room…so she needed to invent a plausible reason for them to take her to her father and somewhere along the way she needed to find a way to run for her life. Great plan. Wherever she was, and however many vampires roamed this place, this was more or less her only chance. She knew that she was more likely to die or be thrown back in here than to even catch a glimpse of the sky but she couldn't wait in here any longer. Her skin crawled uncomfortably at the thought of staying much longer. She knew she would go insane.

She hadn't spoken out loud since the last four days apart from unidentifiable words of rage when she had attempted to demolish the walls and talking to herself was already occurring more often than normal. Either they threw someone else in here with her, preferably human, or she'd truly lose it sooner or later.

That left the option of running away once again. She even ruled out rescuing any of the wonderful, brave people she had travelled with. It all came down to the fact that she didn't know anything about where she was being held captive. No information equaled having to make a blind dash for it, lowering chances of success anyway. Any extra humans to worry about would be her downfall.

The plan was slowly but steadily forming in her head as she paced the cold floor, chewing on the nails of her right hand with anticipation. What time was it? She paused in her walking as it occurred to her that she needed a rational story to tell the guard in order for them to actually allow her into her father's office. Should she just plead to see him like a scared-to-death, loving daughter or simply demand to be brought to him with the same icy air that he used? It seemed to intimidate people, hopefully humans and vampires alike. If they asked why, what could her story be? She'd changed her mind about his proposal? No. He'd immediately sense something wrong. But realistically…could it be that he'd planned for her to finally cave in under the pressure of confinement?

So engrossed in her survival plan, she barely heard the muffled exchange of words behind her prison's door but as the steel shifted, she realized it was time. The moment was here and she wasn't prepared. She turned on the spot and faced her greatest fear standing in the doorway. It was here that events already began to turn in the wrong direction. The soldier appearing in front of her was not the man who was generally responsible for her meals. An unfamiliar face.

He was younger. Also shorter and less packed with muscle than the man who usually dumped her food on the ground and with a face that did not look lined by war hardships before it had been frozen eternally. Most importantly though, his hands held no food. Meaning, that he entered with completely different motivations.

Her plans went down the drain in that instant and she felt her familiar friend, fear, rising in her chest. Her hand dropped from her lips as dread lashed through her like a stinging slap and she moved further away. Her eyes widened to take the danger in immediately, giving her the appearance of a deer caught in headlights, just before it gets run over. Ironically, her situation was quite similar. Deep inside, she knew this was her end, in form of this mockingly handsome man in the green uniform and sling around his arm, haloed by the white light streaming in from the corridor.

He stood in the doorway for a lengthened heartbeat, taking her in just as she was tracing every feature on him. He was statue-like in the way only vampires seemed to be, letting their prey drink in the sight before striking.

Her face hardened into an expression of both wariness and warning at once, taking another step back as he finally moved towards her. The door slid shut behind him. Any escape routes had evaporated before her eyes. All she could do was keep fighting now, at least inflict any possible pain on this vampire before she died.

"Get away from me," she hissed, eyes blazing as though to burn him alive if he took another step. He was, naturally, entirely unfazed by her.

To her immense fury, he even spoke to her as though she was child in need of explanation. His words were aimed to reassure her, take her terror away and expose her need for security. "You don't need to be scared of me"

His voice was silky, caressing the silence around her like the touch of a loved one. Was this the voice he used whenever he was about a tear a victim to shreds? She was not fooled but she found herself struggling to break the spell of his charm even though he'd merely spoken a single phrase.

Her body was tempted to relax into his words of comfort. She had been deprived of any reassurances for a while now but her mind refused to believe them. He continued advancing on her in her dazzled confusion and only his sudden proximity had her snapping out of her reverie.

She repeated her warning, louder and more forceful this time. Her eyes fixed on the unnatural golden eyes that bored into hers as though there was nothing else in the world that could intrigue him more.

"Stay away" she demanded, voice shaking just a fraction but all her mistrust and anger falling into her order. Words were the only weapon she had left.

He paused in his approach.

His head cocked to the side slightly, eyes glowing in the light cast upon them. His white features looked upon her with pity, fascination even, as he considered her attitude. The orders he'd been given echoed in his head as he stared at the human girl, not comprehending her refusal when, in her situation, it was plain stupid to deny immortality.

"Is this what you want?" he asked and was pleased to see her anger melt into realization as she recognized the question as the one her father had asked her countless times, "To live in fear?"

His body slunk forward again, closer to her and now he could smell the blood. The thick, pulsing liquid between the layers of her skin that called to him. It took a lot of willpower for him to focus on his words now as he moved closer. He knew he was giving it away, his hunger for it, because his eyes kept darting towards the artery in her throat.

"See, I can help you," he proposed softly, enjoying the way her frightful eyes snapped to attention immediately, "I can make you one of us. You can live forever."

He knew he was losing his grip, he felt it slipping as he closed the space between them and was merely centimeters away from the freshest source he'd been near in months. It was unbearable. The heat from her body fogged his mind and he completely shut off his rationality as the memories of pleasure that drinking from a living, breathing, struggling victim, resurfaced. If his ears picked up her furious denial, the sound of her "No!" resounding in the confined space, it did not reach his blood-crazed brain. His teeth were lengthening already and he was barely a breath away from sinking them into the sweet flesh.

Then a scream pierced through his head and there were warm hands pressed against his chest, shoving him back against an upright, hard surface. As her yell cleared the haze in his head momentarily and he understood the words she bellowed at him, his vision went red with adrenalin. There was no more distinguishing between male or female, young or old. Whoever it was, _his_ victim was fighting and he enjoyed its feeble attempt to incapacitate him.

"Fuck you!" she told him and he wanted to throw his head back and laugh at her verbal abuse. It would not spare her from her fate. Her thudding fists against his upper body had no effect whatsoever. In fact, it served to spur him on further. It excited him and enraged him and just like that, all restraint fell away.

His head rose above hers as his fangs extended to their full potential and then he buried them so deep into her neck that he could feel them tearing straight through the blood vessel. Then there was nothing but bliss. Hot, searing, heavenly bliss. Her blood was everywhere and overwhelmed his senses. He pressed against her and she staggered backwards, writhing uselessly in his grip. Her own hands clawed at him, tried to fasten around the back of his head to force him away from her neck but as her energy ebbed away with her blood, she barely managed to hold onto his shoulders.

The sounds of his sucking on her life were everything that could be heard in the stillness. Gasps of strain mingled with heavy breathing. He felt her slackening in his grip around her waist with every passing heartbeat. As much as it tortured him to do so, he knew he'd have to pull away soon. Her fingers were sliding down his arms, barely able to contract around the fabric anymore to keep herself upright. Another strangled groan from the girl and he dropped her. Her petite body fell away from his mouth and she collapsed on her side on the concrete. Blood pooled around her but he didn't spare it a glance.

His absolute focus was on the fire that had erupted inside him. Pure, undiluted human blood was coursing in his starving system and he savored every second of the high. His lips were parted in his state of intoxication and his tongue darted out to swipe them clean of the precious fluid. His chin dripped with her unwillingly given blood and for once since a very long time, he could not care less that there was any wasted. He had stilled his thirst in excess.

When his composure eventually returned and his senses sharpened to their regular alert state, he opened his eyes. His gaze fell on the pathetic form of the girl in her own blood, beginning to spasm as his bite took effect. The virus was in her system and now there was no turning back for her. His mouth dripped red like the savage wound that lay bare to his eyes. He felt the tug of blood but this time he held back, knowing she needed to complete her change. He would be punished severely if she faced her demise at his hands.

Lying in her fetal position, on her side, she began to twitch as he stood by and watched her convulsions in a dispatched manner. The rush in his body was subsiding and as his heart calmed and fangs retreated to their usual size, he slowly crouched down beside his victim. She was heaving already, her hands clutching air in strange contractions as she rolled onto her back, eyes shut and teeth grinding in pain. His transformation had been painful, he dimly remembered, but it was a torture that he'd accepted as a small sacrifice in exchange for this life. A life he reckoned he was suited better for than his good-for-nothing human existence. He'd never regretted it.

But Bromley's daughter here, she had been resisting even when she knew there was only one other way out. How could she be so adamant on her death? Could she not see what a gift this change was?

He gingerly rolled her onto her back fully to prevent the grimy floor coming into contact with the torn area, noticing the subsiding warmth of her body as the heat was drawn out of it. He simply looked at her, taking in the skin that would soon bleach to white and the untamed russet hair. Everything about her appearance was unkempt, presumably from travel and struggle. Despite the unwashed clothing and dirt that smeared her skin, he could imagine the delicate beauty that her father wanted to gift with immortality.

In a few hours, her humanity would have subsided, and he would receive praise from the man who had given him the life he'd always dreamt of. Funny that Bromley had turned out to have a human child that he could not control with all his influence. As the soldier stood up, he brushed off the peculiar twinge that manifested in his stomach at the sight of her now. It somehow bothered him that she was in such torment, a pain she was mainly bringing on himself by fighting the change, but an immeasurable agony nonetheless.

Cursing at himself under his breath for this unexpected sensation of empathy for a _human_, which would be so much more fitting for his brother, he distanced himself from her. Trying to leave this irritating guilt on the floor, where it belonged. Her groans were subsiding as she slipped away into unconsciousness and as he thudded his fist against the door and gave Alison Bromley a last once-over, he witnessed her first tears escaping.


	3. Changes

_Bromley Marks, Basement, Confinement Cell #27_

Charles Bromley rarely set foot into this area of his billion-dollar tower. As a matter of fact, he'd only come down here once when being consulted upon whether or not to convert this entire level to an experimentation lab. He'd declined, not wanting to waste capital on yet more scientific research. His primary objective was to harvest blood to sustain his primary business and he'd already funded his other fractions more than sufficiently.

He did not know that a blood scarcity was to befall the planet mere years later and he'd come to value his research team more than he liked to admit.

That's when the lowest floor was discovered for its usefulness. Degrading vampires that could be used as test subjects and remaining humans could be boxed up here, hidden away from the outside and stored until their demise or the need for them arose. At this moment, any human cells were depleted of life, which was a great cause for worry.

Bromley would never, with even a twitch of his body show that he was concerned about vampire survival, but in the long run it seemed inevitable. Unless his useless research and development departments managed to create a blood substitute, there was little hope for the majority of the population.

However, this was not his motivation for travelling all the way to the lowest floor. His perfectly composed demeanor distracted from the interior but he was truly agitated. A guard had brought him daily news of his daughter's state since her arrival and in all honesty, the recent report had unnerved him. He'd known she was stubborn but this went beyond the reaction he'd expected.

The black leather of his shoes shone in the fluorescent lights that were embedded in the wall. His expression remained calm as he approached her prison and waved off the guard accompanying him. He eyed his surroundings distastefully, noting that perhaps he should have invested a small sum into the upholding of this level. It reeked of old blood and decay from several of the cells and if the colour of the ground suggested anything, it had not been touched by anything remotely clean in the past years.

He stepped up to the solid barrier that separated him from his daughter and raised his eye to the peep-hole. His greeting was the sight of a bare concrete floor, spotted with puddles of dark red here and there, and it took him a moment to adjust his gaze and seek out the prisoner. She was standing with her back to the cell door, arms either crossed over her chest or hugging herself around the side. He couldn't tell from the angle she was standing in. Her head was bowed against her chest and even through the cloudy lens; he could tell that her general appearance had altered slightly.

She was, finally, sharing his miracle. And rejecting it simultaneously.

She seemed slimmer to him, more willowy in her posture, and she was standing in such stillness as only his kind could. Her skin was paler, perhaps from the transitioning into her new species or from the blood depravation. It must have been an entire day now that she'd gone without a single drop. He had the urge to scold her for her stupidity. Did she really want to kill herself in this miserable, cowardly style? He had saved her and yet she wasn't accepting the fact as it was.

He moved back as the guard to his right spoke, eager to state the obvious just to prove his attentiveness. Or to break the tense silence that the boss was shrouding himself in. Bromley regarded him only shortly as he announced, "She won't drink her blood ration, Sir". He wasn't interested in the incompetence of his own soldiers. He was even less engrossed in this man himself whose only significance was to keep any street scum, which currently resided down here, away from his daughter. If such a case should arise that was. Not likely, but better safe than sorry.

He indulged the man with a curt nod before letting his eyes dart pointedly to the steel door. The guard turned immediately, punched in a six-figure code into the panel that was fitted into the wall and then backed up as the entrance opened for the most important entrepreneur in the city.

The stench of blood increased as soon as he stepped into the narrow room. He was relieved to find the smell of freshly spilt blood more potent than the dry stains on the floor. Had she finally come to her senses and fed?

She did not turn to look at him. Apart from shifting her weight slightly and hunching her shoulders a fraction further, she gave no indication whatsoever to having noticed his presence. Her father sighed inaudibly, letting his eyes travel over her still, white form. He dearly wished that her features had turned out just as beautiful as he'd hoped.

However, that was when he also noticed the rivulets of dark liquid running down her arm, which had suddenly dropped to hang by her side. What astounded him more than the sight of it was the penetrating scent it emitted, as though drawn straight from a body. His features shifted into a stunned mask as realization set in and he choked out her name.

"Ali…"

He couldn't even get the word out. His overwhelming disgust broke through and he fell silent, only responding to her with his eyes. Wide, golden eyes that held desperate denial.

A strained moment long, she didn't even react to the sound. Then her body seemed to move itself on its own accord and she turned her face to him. Her shoulders were rigid but her muscles trembled with effort and her gaze was fixed on her father just as his were on her, but faraway. The scene in front of her did not exist in her vision. She was blind to her surroundings, being consumed by the sensation of blood running through her system. He was shocked beyond words by the sight.

His daughter standing there with the stance of one of those street rats, teeth clamped down onto one of several wounds on her forearm. He distantly felt the urge to throw up at the thought of taking in his own blood, leeching on it like she was.

He let out a breath, letting it escape as an "Oh" of concern. He did not expect to be thrown into this situation and couldn't quite deal with the reality of it yet. He found himself attempting to reason with her. Murmuring just loudly enough for her to hear his words of rationality and fatherly scorn. Trying to hide his revolt.

"Ali," he named her affectionately enough to sound worried, "What are you doing? It'll poison you"

She did not seem to care, or hear him in first place. But then the terrible sucking stopped and she lowered her mangled arm. To her father, it seems an eternity before it finally fell to her side but what stared him in face now, was even worse. For a brief moment, his humanity re-grasped hold of him and he looked in horror upon what was once his sweet-natured little girl. His dear Alison. The creature that was sizing him up from under her lashes, body language that of a child caught with its hand in the cookie jar and a desperately insane animal, was not his daughter.

Her face appeared to be stuck in both grimace and gleeful smile. The fact that she was smeared in her own dark blood added to the image that should please him, but only managed to hold him shocked. She was not meant to devour her own body. Taking her own blood, it was going to kill her. He could see in her crazed eyes that she knew it just as well as he. Every single infected cell that made up Alison must have been screaming at her to stop but with sheer willpower she managed to swallow from her own wounds. Incredible and terrible all at once.

He did not know what to feel. He did not even understand why he felt this coil of emotion tumbling around inside him anyway. For years this _thing_ had not even stirred, excepting the occasional flare of annoyance and anger. All he'd known was bloodlust and perhaps satisfaction after a fresh kill. Not this. Concern toward another being. Even if she was his daughter. He found himself angry, at her, at that soldier he'd ordered to change her, at his growing failure of sustaining the city with blood, at the human race even.

His rational side laughed at him for his instability when it came to Alison. It all bubbled down to her devotion to humans.

Why did she have to oppose it so horribly? She could lead a life, a proper, safe life again if only she let herself experience this existence. Not standing in a dingy cell, refusing her more than fresh rations and instead attempting to mutilate herself to end it all. With her fangs protruding from her gums in that sick smile and the blood-tipped hair hanging around her head, she looked like the born predator. She'd be such a perfect vampire through and through if only she stopped fighting,

He realized he had remained in his position of stunned silence when Alison spoke to him. Her voice was guttural, altered by the havoc which her own blood was working in her body, and in every syllable he could hear the accusation.

"Is this what you wanted?" she growled at him, words cracking in her throat. If her emotion was not contained in her new body, he knew she'd be crying in her anger. She was just like that as a child. Simply without the bitter tone and the gasping breaths that she took to reign in her new bestial fury.

He resumed his fatherly farce, softening his mouth and letting his eyes narrow around the edges to assume a regretful expression. He knew it was a convincing mask - that of being affected by her words even though his stone soul no longer felt such stabs of resentment. Not since many years. To perfect the character of remorse he was playing, he lifted his hands to his chest, defeated. Even his pleading murmur has the perfect touch of gentleness in it. "Oh, Sweetheart…"

She didn't let him finish his apologies.

"Is this what you wanted?"

She repeated her question, more forcefully, though in a more human tone. Every word was hurling the blame for her state at him like she would gladly put a bullet through his skull. He could read her self-hatred on her face, inconveniently less than her despise towards him in this second. She prowled towards him as she spoke. Her movements weren't as energetic as they could be if she had fed but nonetheless fueled with anger. He wondered briefly what her reason for this advance could be. Did she believe she could get past him?

The vampire was evident in her threatening position and while he kept his face hooded with an expression of remorse, he felt the urge to let it contort and bare his fangs. Not that he did. It would only encourage her in her spiral of self-destruction. Instead he backed up gradually as she approached him. That was a wrong move on his behalf.

She stormed forward then and with her newborn physical strength grasped his immaculate suit by the collar. Her fists curled around the silky material and he knew they would leave it in creases. However, while his brain registered these tiny, irritating details, he did not move in defense as she whirled him around, pulling him sideways until he was pressed into the ledge where wall and light met. He registered her sobbing, furious growls in her ear as she repeatedly cried, "You did this! You did this!" but he could only stare in silence at her blue-bathed form.

She was a mess all over. Her face was livid and heart-wrenchingly sad at the same time. Blood was dripping from varies torn areas onto her clothing, her skin, the floor. He had never seen anything quite like it close up as he was now. The degrading vampires scavenging the streets, sure, everyone knew about them, but he had never wished to come within touching distance of one of _those_. He felt as though somebody had thrown a pail of icy water over him, leaving him drenched in his worst nightmare – his daughter transforming into a mutant.

Paying attention to her as he was, he wasn't prepared for her next course of action and suddenly experienced the taste of vampire blood on his tongue. She had smeared her arm across his face, forcing the leaking wound into his mouth. Now he almost did retch, not only at the sensation but the mere principle. He fought her pressing limb, alarmed and utterly revolted. His struggles were weak enough to be withheld by her fatigued body. Apparently the ability to feel terror had not faded completely and now it had him paralyzed in one spot. He could not bring himself to throw her off.

She was still screeching at him, blazing eyes wet as she repeated, "You did this!" in volumes that he had never realized she could reach with her soft voice.

Charles Bromely's saving grace appeared in form of the fidgety guard who seemed to have decided the noise levels from the cell as abnormal and now invaded the prison in combat mode. In a flash, he had his fury of a daughter by the waist and her weight was lifted off him. The vampire gasped, choking on the torrents of blood he'd almost been made to swallow and thoroughly shaken by what had just occurred. The soldier had pulled Alison clean off the ground and was backing out with her still resisting in his arms, screaming the haunting words at her father as she was taken away.

The girl's string of curses melted into incoherent yelling as she was dragged out of earshot. He was left sagging against the wall, breathing raggedly. He shuddered as he felt a few streams of blood dripping off his nose and onto his lips. He must look terrible. Dear lord, simply his clothing had taken a beating. He looked as though he'd been a fight and things had gotten out of hand, like in his very distant teenage years.

Mere moments later, before he'd even had time to properly regain his composure, the uniformed guard who'd accompanied him earlier silently appeared by his side, awaiting further direction. Bromley huffed in a deep breath, then stood straight and straightened his dirtied jacket with an air as dignified as he could manage. Without sparing his companion a glance, he spoke with no emotion to the silent room.

"This stays absolutely confidential"

The soldier mirrored his stoic tone and did not move from his position as he replied with a disciplined, "Yes Sir"

"Where was she taken?" Bromley questioned, tucking his collar back into his suit jacket and using a handkerchief to clean the majority of the redness away.

"Medical lab, second floor, Sir. She'll be given sedatives. They will treat her injuries once she is stable" Still the same voice from the guard, absolutely no acknowledgment of the dramatic nature of the situation.

Bromley sighed, exiting the room with steadier steps than he hoped. Good. He didn't dare lose his composure in times like these, especially in front of his soldiers. Nobody wanted to be working for a man who lost complete control of himself when confronted by such issues. That suggested he was inclined to human emotional behavior, maybe even sympathy, which was not the case.

The younger man followed silently, back up the stairs he'd come and towards the elevator. Bromley caught himself eyeing the guns on his belt with interest and promptly looked away. He _had_ considered killing his Alison for a brief moment when she'd shoved a letter opener into his abdomen but that had been out of instinctual revenge. The thought did not last long. Now though, now he was at a loss of what do with her. She was so stubborn. How to convince her to accept this life if she could not even be brought to sustain herself? No, apparently she'd rather die by poison.

As the elevator doors slid open and he stepped inside, a new idea slowly slithered into his head. An idea that was just about as hopeless as it was intriguing. There was always a way to convince people and he believed he'd perhaps found a trigger to do just that with his daughter. He faced the guard again and reached out a hand to intercept the doors closing on him. His eyes caught the other man's in his usual cold indifference.

"Sergeant, get me Frankie Dalton to my office. I need to have a word with him."

The soldier nodded mutely again, raising a stiff hand to his temple in confirmation. "Sir"

The older man nodded his approval and then added, on second thought, "And once Miss Bromley is fully fed and back on her feet, make sure she does not get anywhere near her own flesh again. If I have another mutant on my back, I'll be sure to make somebody responsible for it."

He accentuated his idle threat with a look that had the man across whitening visibly beneath his pale complexion. Then the space between them was cut by the doors sliding shut.


	4. Mission

_Elevator 3, Bromley Marks_

Frankie Dalton had honestly no idea what he had been summoned for. It was unusual for him to be requested in singular presence by the big boss and the last time it had occurred was when his daughter had been apprehended.

He hadn't spent a thought on the incident in her cell for the past two days. He had been occupied with an irregular routine of rounding up the filth residing in the sewers of the city, which wasn't exactly a simple undertaking. He knew it was necessary but to spend his working hours in the canals under the roads, catching the fleabags by waving some bloody meat in their faces, wasn't what he'd joined the army for. Those _things_ went crazy at the smallest whiff of blood and the rest of his division had trouble getting them bound in the electrical restraints.

He couldn't imagine the majority of the population dissolving into such insane bats in less than a few months. According to the stony look on his brother's face, whenever he commented on the restlessness grabbing hold of the people as the rumors about this blood-starvation spread, it was true though.

He had briefly wondered if he would be affected, but brushed off the thought shortly thereafter. He worked for Charles Bromley, the most influential business tycoon in a hundred mile radius. A man who seemed to confide in him more than any other of his guards recently. If there was one thing he knew, it was that the man kept his employees well fed. He sat right at the source of it, really. He definitely wouldn't starve while hired by Bromley.

His mind meandered back to the girl as the doors to the penthouse office opened. He half-expected her to be sitting on the sofas that he stood before now, but she was not present. Still in her holding cell he guessed. Her father however, stood by the window, observing the rising commotion on the streets below. Darkness had set in a few minutes ago. Life was beginning to fill the city.

The soldier dared to move across the room silently, since the other man had yet to acknowledge his presence, until he stood before the sharp-edged, black desk. He hovered there with his arms by his sides save for the one that what still in that inconvenient sling and a blank expression on his face.

After several lacking heartbeats of silence in the room, the older man turned around to face the visitor, his face etching into an approving smile.

"Frankie, my boy" he nodded, maneuvering his body onto the heavy armchair that stood behind the desk, "I hope I'm not deterring you from your duties"

"No, Sir" he replied, puzzled by the conversational tone that Bromley seemed to be striking up more and more recently with him. His face remained perfectly intact though. "But I'd like to inquire why you had me called."

"Yes" came the answer and Bromley leaned back in his chair, linking his fingers together on the edge of the desk. "I need you to complete a confidential task for me. In fact, I'm sure you'll rather like your new position"

The soldier stood motionless, awaiting the bombshell drop.

"As I asked of you a few days ago, you performed the transformation of Alison," the man started, twiddling with one of countless platinum pens as he performed his speech, "And you have done so successfully. However, she refuses to accept her new condition and attempted to poison herself by drinking her own blood yesterday"

That was a small shock but it came as no surprise to Frankie. She had made her abhorrence of his kind and her future very clear. Drink her own blood? A gradual and painful way to die, if that was really the path she chose. However, all these statements brought him no further towards an answer as to why he had been called. Was he to be punished in some form for her foolishness?

"As it is, I obviously cannot leave her alone for a moment until she stops this nonsense," Bromley continued, a crease of irritation becoming visible on his otherwise smooth forehead, "She has been forcibly fed and her body cleansed of any toxins in the medical ward but I don't want her to stay there. So," he rose from his seat with an air of great self-satisfaction, "I'll have her moved to my home. You will see that she arrives safely"

Frankie felt the foreign urge to raise his eyebrows at that. This piece of news was the reason he'd been called up here? To be told he needed to escort the man's daughter to his private mansion? However, his exasperation at this fact was quickly overturned by the words that followed.

"I've chosen you to keep her controlled 24/7 so she does not find any more chances to enact these suicidal tendencies. You will be given board at my home and I expect a report of her behavior every day. You will be with her or watching over her at all times of day. I don't want any more accidents"

His job description ended with flourish and it took the young man a few seconds to understand this new situation. This had just hit him so unexpectedly that he fumbled for the right reply.

"Yes, Sir" he pressed out for good measure, "But why would you give me this task, Sir? I'm sure there are more capable people who can handle your daughter. I'm no therapist. My brother would be more suited for this than me."

Modesty was always good and right now he meant it. There was no way in hell that he could get that girl to lie down on a sofa and tell him what was on her mind in order to reform her attitude towards life. Neither was there any reason for him to have to undergo such extreme boredom.

He was a soldier, an army-bred, disciplined man who feasted on action, not sentimental exchanges with a vampire who simply wanted to revert to her human form or die. Realistically, it was the latter that she wanted. Why did _he_ have to convince her to stop killing herself? Just how was he meant to do that?

Bromley simply waved off his arguments with a flick of the flashy pen in his direction. "Not at all. I wouldn't appoint you if you weren't capable and, no offence to him; but Edward would not be the man for the job. He would sympathize with her. I can't have that kind of emotional attachment if he is to get her to come to her senses. He is needed here. No, you two are both going to get along just fine. Since you are her creator, I think she is very much likely to listen to you"

"Sir," the young man protested, "I'm sure it would be more beneficial for her to appoint a proper caretaker…"

"Alison is perfectly capable of taking care of herself," Bromley frowned at him, "All I need you to do is watch over her and ensure she feeds once a day. There are rations in the house. There is also a concierge who comes in twice a week, so really you don't need to take care of anything. Though," he hesitated with narrowed eyes, "if I didn't know better, I'd get the impression that you are not up for the task, Dalton"

The last phrase was accentuated with a raised eyebrow that had Frankie growing rigid with frustration. No, he was not scared of this situation. Spending time with that adamant girl was just not on the top of his to-do list. But then again, the prospect of free, plentiful amounts of blood every day just for babysitting was inviting.

Pros versus Cons.

"Your daughter is in goods hands, Sir," he declared, nodding obligingly towards the vampire who, in turn, threw him an overly relieved look.

"Excellent. I knew I could count on you. I'll be expecting a lack of crisis when I come home tomorrow. Dismissed, Frankie"

Without giving further objections, he departed the office, thoroughly riled up inside. What had just transpired changed his job description quite a bit. It wasn't that he minded staying in the same house with a teenage girl, that wasn't the issue. It wasn't even the fact that he'd possibly have to put up with some bitchy attitude and crazy antics of her to end her existence. It was the matter of fact that he had to keep watch over her every single minute of the day. No a single free hour. There would always be focus on her. His sleeping hours would be extremely limited – completely circulating around hers. He hadn't even been told how long exactly he'd have to keep this job up for.

The elevator rushed downwards, back to the military and security levels in the basement. He collected himself, giving nothing away as he weaved through the men walking past and headed to the chief's office. The discussion was short, brief and strictly technical and mere ten minutes later, Frankie found himself standing in the underground parking lot of Bromley Marks. The girl hadn't been brought in yet and so he busied himself with checking the vehicle he'd been assigned.

He didn't react as footsteps on tarmac approached him and only when a male's voice questioned him for further instructions, did he look up. Alison Bromley's defiant golden gaze caught his and she stared with utmost contempt at him. He barely managed to drag his eyes off her stony expression and focus on the guard's inquiry. Thankfully, the driver headed towards them at the same moment, a weighty man of about forty human years, and waved his hand in direction of the car. A clear call to leave.

The girl, whose hands were shackled in front of her stomach, was ushered into the rover's backseat and the guard pressed a key into Frankie's hands and left.

The car ride was tense, to say the least. While the driver's human personality had obviously not been affected majorly by his transition, which made him blabber about all kinds of subjects on the ride, the two in the back sat in silence. They did not share a glance or a word of greeting but sat stiffly, staring in their respective directions. After about twenty minutes of this procedure, the chatterbox finally took a hint and flicked the switch of the radio and tuned in on a station that played some road music.

Once, Frankie felt certain that the girl was looking his way with a glare that could easily have heated up the atmosphere by a few degrees. When he snapped his eyes over to her for a split second though, in an attempt to catch her off guard, she had her attention on the lit buildings outside that they were passing. He felt foolish in the face of this paranoia creeping up on him.

Had she been watching him or not? Was it even important? It's really not like he had anything to fear from her. For physical damage she was too meek, too finely built to be of real threat and she seemed obsessed with the idea of pretending he was air, which was fine by him. She certainly wasn't aggressive, even though he'd heard quite different stories from the man who had informed him of Bromley's requesting him.

He'd described something of a little fury and how she had virtually sprung at her father like a wild cat. Looking at her now, with her new vampire appearance, he really couldn't imagine that flawless composure breaking and her blood-crazed body hurling at her prey. It was something that was probably a new natural instinct to her but the image didn't quite reach him.

The house loomed into view, one of the vampire-modified white mansions that lined the prestigious districts. Multiple windows were now shutter-free and there were late neighbors leaving their homes to embark the journey to the inner city for work, school or shopping. The nighttime bustle was emerging, even here in the far suburbs. The soldier slid out of the car and took his time moving around the other side to let his prisoner out. With a curt nod to the driver who had retrieved his duffel bag from the trunk, he applied a hint of pressure to the girl's back. She stiffened under his momentary touch but headed forwards anyway.

The place was an eye catcher, inside and out. The white wood coating the outside of the house, combined with the precisely trimmed carpet of grass, created an image of perfectionism. The interior was no exception. Everything seemed spotless and on first sight, it became apparent that every piece had its place. The only noise was the barely audible ticking of a clock in the living room. The bottom floor was open with the kitchen, living room and dining area merging into a wide space. The hall gave way to a double staircase that curved towards and then along the back wall of the house and combined into a single stairway at the top of the second floor. The house screamed wealth.

Spreading around the bottom floor were single, dark, wood doors, leading to what he presumed to be guest rooms and bathrooms – at least six of them. One of them was surely assigned to him for his stay here. The girl seemed oblivious to his marvel at the building. She was busy making her way up the staircase, still completely ignoring his existence, running a hand over the smooth banister in remembrance.

It had been years since she'd set foot into this house and it had altered in this time. It appeared less homely and comfortable to her. There were no familiar sounds or smells to welcome her home. The only constant were the walls themselves. Even the furniture had been replaced or rearranged. Her favorite armchair, which she'd spent hours reading in during childhood, had given way to a nondescript leather couch.

The despair that she wanted so desperately to resurface, kept bubbling underneath the exterior, pushed back by that invisible barrier. Vampires did not feel the way humans did. Emotions weren't a natural integrated part of life. The human fragments left of the person before the change, were locked deep inside and only surfaced in times of extreme stress. Even joy wasn't exactly a feeling that showed in the faces of the vampire population. How could anybody choose not to live with feelings? How did people even understand another when emotions could not be carried through them apart from falsely imitated ones?

Her feet ascended the stairs automatically, the movements coming to her easily. Twenty steps until the first flight reached the wall, another ten steps until the top floor spread out before her. Another ten and she paused in the frame of her old room. She felt empty as she looked over the familiar velvet duvet on a bed, the scratched, simple desk that was pressed flush against the wall underneath the window and the wardrobe that had lost its handle years ago. Memories and happy times had inhabited this room and some were still preserved in these objects. It was too bad she couldn't enjoy them.

Her hands travelled over the texture of the cover blanket, for the first time appreciating her newfound expanded senses. These eyes could see the tiny fuzzy bits sticking out of the shades of blue that were virtually undetectable in the darkness. This was going to be her life. Back in the same house she'd lived her human childhood in, with a person who had brutally forced the change on her and a father whose only care was for her safety but who could not care less about her happiness. She needed to find a way to get out of the city and fast. Good behavior would only get her so far. She had to fight her way out of the claws of her only parent and the guard dog he'd hired.

He'd appeared in the doorway behind her and as she twisted her head around, she saw that he'd brought up her belongings. His posture was straight and even though his eyes were hard, she felt that he was at a loss of what to do now. Keeping watch over the employer's daughter was not something he did regularly. She rose and took the bag from him, which he extended to her silently. If this had been a normal situation where she was not a prisoner in her own house, she might have appreciated his presence.

All she wanted was to be left alone. Especially by him. Or did she want some sort of conversation, interaction, anything really? She'd been left to herself for almost a week now and the few words she'd managed to exchange with the doctors had not been constructive. Neither had screaming at her dad. Having a decent talk with somebody, even if it was a stoic soldier, would be a relief from everything she'd been going through. A shred of normality.

She placed the bag on the bed and sunk down beside it, keeping her eyes on the floor. She sensed he hadn't moved from his position but she could not bring herself to look him in the eye. Her courage had somewhat deserted her after she'd completed the transition. She knew he wouldn't hurt her but having experienced that he could and did, well, it changed her reckless perspective. Her father may have given him orders but she couldn't be sure what exactly his liberties were.

She cleared her throat subtly. "So, is this how it's going to be? You're here to prevent me from doing anything terrible to myself and I'm meant to sit quietly and be well-behaved?"

She could see him transfer his weight to his right leg, shifting as he confirmed her question with a quiet, "Yes"

It was an answer that indicated he had nothing else to say to her. Any human she'd ever known would have made a joke or attempted to lighten the situation by at least adding a comforting phrase to it.

She threw him a dirty look. He overlooked it and instead stationed himself next to her desk, watching the dark lawn and rows of houses below, giving a very good impression of being ignorant of her. She wasn't fooled. Of course he was listening to her every move. She huffed and started unpacking her treasured backpack that had lasted her for almost five years now. Not the easiest task with hands cuffed together but she needed something to do.

"You don't need to flutter around me the whole night. I'm not running off and I'm not going to do anything suicidal"

"Your previous actions are totally contrary to what you are saying" he replied in a monotone fashion.

She took a deep breath to calm the sudden urge to injure some part of him. Instead, she tore out the clothing from her bag and flung it into the wardrobe. "Maybe that's because everything that has happened to me in the past few days has only caused me pain. It's not so hard to believe that I want to be left alone by all you leeches"

He glanced at her then, his golden eyes bright with mockery. "You seem to forget that you are just the same"

"Not by choice," she hissed, clutching a toothbrush in her hand, "And it would have never been this way if I had made the decision. I am _nothing_ like you people"

The biting emphasis did not have an effect on him, even with the end of a toothbrush being pointed threateningly close at his throat. The golden gaze sized her up coolly before he gently pressed a fingertip against the plastic end of the object and pushed it away, taking care to place and obvious tap against the metal cuffs. "It'll take me less than three seconds to be back in your room if you try anything. You're right, you're nothing like us. And that's why you won't be able to escape"

Then he sidestepped her and was gone from her room before she had time to object. Not that she would have. The sudden chill that had crept across her skin at the warning left her eager for the solitude she had been subjected to for the past week. She decided that talking to him was not on her list any longer.


	5. Emotion

_Bromley Mansion, Ground floor, Kitchen_

Frankie watched his reflection in the dark window, looked at the serious expression, the close-cropped hair that made him look tough, the large eyes that were narrowed in frustration and the arms that were crossed in front of his chest. He nudged himself back into reality. He was mulling over this recent conversation far too much. What had happened after all? Nothing.

She'd just voiced her opinion of things and he'd given her an obvious warning that merely reinforced why he was here with her. A subtle threat to keep her on good behavior. End of story. He could easily crop out the moments where he'd found that tingling of truth in her heated words even if he'd hid it flawlessly. He'd felt sympathy and was furious at himself for it. He was making a bigger deal out of his than it was worth.

Still turning facts and fiction over in his head, he pulled open the fridge door. Several rows of marked containers, brimming with red fluid, greeted him. The sight was so mouth-watering he had to swallow the rush that had his fangs elongating from his gums. It felt all too long since his last meal. He finally got to savor the bonuses of taking on this task.

Moments later he'd located two tumblers from the kitchen inventory and trickled the thick substance into the glasses. The plastic container landed in the sink and he started ascending the stairs with his prized possessions. Somehow, it appeared far simpler to be looking out for this girl's needs than he'd originally thought. A nice, pure liter of this stuff a day and she'd be just fine. However in the matter of body guarding…

It was a bit too quiet upstairs. He'd only been down barely two minutes, all the while keeping his ears perfectly alert for anything unusual coming from the top floor. Maybe she'd gone to bed for a nap, he reminded himself, it doesn't mean she's doing anything she shouldn't or that she had suddenly disappeared. He would have noticed that kind of action. He didn't like taking chances though. He tripled his pace and stood in front of her closed door the next instant, nudging it open with a practiced movement of his elbow.

The door swung wildly on its hinges to reveal Alison, standing in the midst of a crumpled bunch of jeans and cotton on the floor. He really couldn't help his following reaction. It was a very male thing to do that had nothing to do with vampiric instinct. His eyes roved from her bare feet along the thin creamy legs, past the underwear to her equally slim torso and finally the dark blue bra that brought out the pale skin of her upper body. By the time he'd reached her rocky expression it sunk through to him that she was undressed in front of him. He'd definitely get hell for this.

Alison seemed to be shocked into a state of frozen indecision. She didn't move from her position, apparently having just shrugged out of her T-shirt and finding her arms held at her sides tensely. His staring did not last longer than a few seconds before he clamped down hard on his composure and extended one of the drinks towards her.

Don't let this catch you off guard, he reprimanded himself, strictly professional. Apparently she did the same because the look in her eye changed to the same carelessness. The vampire ability to shut out emotional insecurity really helped for once. It didn't matter at all that she was only half-clothed. She shouldn't be feeling so caught and exposed. She took the glass from him, expecting him to leave her to herself once she'd accepted. He didn't.

"You'll have to convince me that you drank it," he shrugged, indulging on his own drink. His casual demeanor was back in place as he raised the glass to his lips.

She swallowed heavily. She didn't want to do this. Her body craved it but she'd rather smash the damn thing on the floor than drink it. His golden eyes pinned her however and she found herself lifting the heavy pitcher to her lips and granting herself a single sip, just to placate him. She wouldn't take any more. But she wasn't prepared for the ecstasy that flooded her senses. The liquid was cold but it held so much rejuvenating energy in it that made her take another gulp, then another until her entire being shook with the life of somebody else.

When she opened her eyes, that had somehow fallen closed in her procedure of emptying the glass, she glimpsed him looking at her. He'd known that she would take it. She wanted to bury herself away from that gaze, somewhere where her weaknesses weren't put to show and she could wallow in her self-hatred and pity for a change. She was conforming to temptations and she despised herself for it. But she couldn't stop anymore and she knew it. So did he.

"You're gloating about this" she accused him, wiping the traces away from her mouth, ashamed. She'd given in to the thirst. As much as she hated this existence, her resistance to blood kept weakening with every day that she refused it. This time it had barely taken half a minute before she'd tipped it down her throat. She turned away.

He didn't respond and she found herself scolding herself for even speaking to him again. However, his gaze burned a trail down her bare back and she suddenly wanted to hear him speak again, to learn more about him, for whatever irrational reason. He had a nice voice, she supposed. It was deep but still sounded young, maybe a hint scratchy and occasionally with more feeling than her father's. She just wanted to listen to it, mindless of what he actually said.

"Who are you?" she wondered aloud, having noticed that she did not know how to address him. There was no name. She knew nothing about him and he probably knew everything vital about her. She hoped for an answer this time.

He set his glass down on the desk. The object clinked against the wood and she felt his presence moving closer to her.

"It isn't required that you know my personal details," he evaded her question in that monotone, drilled voice he used often, "All you should know is that I'm here to protect you from harm"

"I don't care if it's required or not. I want to know what to call you," she retorted, facing him again, "Or are you just some serial number?"

The verbal blow didn't rouse him as much as the sincerity of her wish to know his name. Since multiple months, nobody had cared to ask his name or shown enough interest to talk to him apart from work instructions. Even his brother evaded speaking to him more often than not ever since he'd moved back in, for whatever reason that was. He didn't care if his big brother had anything to hide and didn't bother digging around in his Ed's life. But now this girl asked for his name like she cared to know.

That was unexpected.

"Frankie" he revealed, watching her back for a reaction.

She didn't show her surprise at such a boyish name. It was borderline endearing. It suited him. She had imagined something terribly straight-laced such as Greg or Derek but this name was much better. Made him appear less like a military dog. He finally had an identity for her to connect with. She twisted around on her heel again to look at him, standing there finally sling-less and with a posture of somebody wanting to say something but keeping himself in check.

"Frankie…" her gaze dropped to his uniform jacket where his nametag hung over his breast pocket, "Dalton. Are you related to an E. Dalton?"

Now he definitely looked surprised. She could tell that he was frantically trying to decipher how she knew this man.

"He's my brother"

She nodded with a satisfied hum, sinking down onto the side of the bed, "He treated me briefly when I came round in the emergency room. Said all kinds of things about blood poisoning and offered to help me adjust. He was really nice about everything so I bothered to check his nametag. He was the most caring of the bunch that cleaned me up. Is he an actual doctor there?"

Her human attribute of good-natured curiosity was puzzling him increasingly.

"Hematologist," Frankie answered, distantly wondering why the hell he was telling her about his life and why she was suddenly striking up conversation with him, "He's working on a blood substitute to conserve the blood supplies we have. He knows how to deal with blood disease"

A little smile came to her face. He found himself liking it more than the frown she wore the majority of the time. That realization was followed by an inner slap. Caring about a prisoner? Caring about the boss' daughter? Her bright gaze moved to his face and he was caught in its open inquiry.

"What do you do for my father? He trusts you enough to leave you alone here with me"

Spot on. She really didn't know that assumption made him squirm inside.

"I don't see how that's relevant," he sidestepped the question, "You'd have to ask your father about his decision, I can't answer for his choice. I suppose he needed a soldier to ensure your protection"

She scoffed, rolling her eyes to the ceiling. "My father doesn't actually care about me or what I want in life. I think that's obvious enough. He did _this_ to me. He only wants me to stop ruining his reputation. I bet you didn't know that he's responsible for a lot of the human hunting in this region"

"I do," was his confession, "I was part of a lot of them"

"You really don't care about them at all? They're still people!"

"Between starving myself and capturing humans to feed on, I'd rather survive" he said simply.

That shut her up. She regarded him for a while, in the end deciding to swallow the anger she felt at that statement. "Well then I hope your brother succeeds soon. All those that died fighting with me would be happy to hear that they may have actually been allowed to live the rest of their lives without tubes being stuck into them"

"You should be glad you don't have to run anymore," he retorted, moving to take her glass from her, "You should be thankful that you have a father who can supply you with this. You blame vampires but you haven't seen what is happening in the cities. You're better off than the lower class vampires that are begging on the streets for something they aren't going to get. They degrade day by day because they are starving to death and you do it because you think it's not right to take something from people who are already long gone. They don't care when they're dead"

She held onto the glass, even as his fingers tugged on it, her body completely still. Her face was pale though and her expression beseeching as she stared up at him.

"Don't you ever miss the sun? Don't you ever wish that you could still go outside and feel those little things that you can only take in during the day? Feel human things?"

"That's not important," he intercepted, "You're not going to change back to the way you were. This isn't a disease, it's a new life. It's changed almost everyone. Vampires are the majority. There is no way back and you should get used to it now if you don't want to end up getting killed with the real monsters that they're picking up from the streets"

The more he spoke the more the fight seeped out of her. Her fingers loosened around the object and the glass would have fallen onto the floor if he'd not snatched it. He knew that had been harsh but the sooner she got a grip on the situation, the faster he'd be out of here and the sooner she'd have it easier in her own life. Right now, her head fell against her chest in defeat and as he straightened up she whispered, "I want my life back"

There it was again. That unfamiliar rush of sympathy for her. This stupid new sensation had him pausing where he was half inclined to go get his glass and take his leave. Simultaneously, he thought it was his duty to stay and offer some form of comfort even though Bromley had never mentioned anything about keeping her happy as well as psychologically stable. He looked at her, crouched on the side of the bed, half-clothed and hopeless.

They should have appointed his brother for this. He was so much better at handling emotion. Ed was actually compassionate whereas he generally failed to console others. At least it had been that way when he'd been human and as a vampire it was just entirely _wrong _to attempt the act of comforting.

He placed the glass on the desk next to its counter piece and then slowly stepped back in her direction. He let his body sink onto the mattress stiffly. He could feel her cold skin against him and swore she actually had a shiver run through her when he closed the space between them. Probably out of discomfort at his proximity. He kept his hands firmly folded in his lap though and opted to speak to his boots instead of directly to her.

"Alison," that name sounded so foreign coming off his tongue, "You can't change what happened. It would be easier on you if you moved on from wishful thinking. From running away, starved, alone and scared, transformed…" he trailed off for a moment, not even knowing what he was talking about. Listing the trauma she'd been though in the past years wasn't going to improve anything. He cleared his throat, breaking the stupor. "It can only get better. It did for me"

There was a long pause that followed his words and when she still hadn't responded after a minute, he got up. That's when her hand closed around his sleeve, clenching around the material like the reflexive grip of a baby. He had to quench the instinctual defense movement at this sudden blockade. The rest happened so fast he didn't have time to comprehend what they were doing at all.

He looked down at the hand that was fisted in the fabric of his jacket and the next thing he knew, she'd risen, pressed her face against his chest, her shoulders shaking unevenly and suddenly his jacket was becoming damp. Far too late he grasped that she was crying. She was holding onto him like he was able to chase her worries away.

He couldn't remember feeling as insecure and overwhelmed with a situation as he was right now. Handling this kind of behavior was completely foreign to him. He was lost. Truthfully, he was itching to flee the embrace because he didn't have a single clue how to react to it and exactly that scared the hell out of him.

Alison didn't have a single clue why she had broken down. The impulse to clutch onto him had taken her by surprise, just as much as the sudden cracking of that dam inside that had held the suffering back for the past few days. His words had, somehow, smashed the wall to pieces and she couldn't handle herself anymore.

Tears streamed down her cheeks and she needed to know that somebody was there with her. That she wasn't as alone in this abyss as she felt. That invisible barrier that had kept her at a safety distance from him, out of fear and distrust, had fallen. She felt his tension as she fisted her hands in his jacket but she didn't care. It was wonderful to be able to hold a person after a week of solitude and silence.

After several minutes of stiff enduring on his part and her attempting to stem the flood of tears, she removed herself from him. Her emotional phase was ebbing away, leaving her feeling exposed once more. The previous embarrassment came flooding back and she put a little distance in between their bodies, aware that she'd just made a complete fool of herself. Her arms immediately came up to cross over her bare stomach self-consciously. Frankie swallowed the sudden sensation in his throat, stowing his hands away into his pockets.

"I…" she began, "uh, sorry"

He managed to shake himself from his frozen state and shook his head casually. "It's nothing"

Had his voice always sounded so thick? To his ears it sounded pathetic.

"I need to…well I should…take a shower" she mumbled, looking at the floor. Anywhere but him.

So that's why she'd been undressing. He wanted to hit himself for not counting two and two together. Obviously it wasn't intended to be a striptease. He agreed readily, quickly turning and taking the tumblers he'd brought up, "I shouldn't have interrupted"

He didn't know why he suddenly stuck up such a formal tone. Probably to drown out the realization that this job had already begun to get more personal than he'd intended. He needed to clear his head and focus. She didn't answer to that and as he exited the room and shut the door behind him, he'd never been more thankful that he'd lost the ability to blush a while ago.


	6. Break

_Bromley Mansion, First Floor, Bathroom_

The darkness was still prominent outside as Alison rid herself of dirt that had been clinging to her skin. She'd expected this new eternity to pass excruciatingly slowly. Like every single day was no longer split into hours, minutes and seconds that ticked by too fast but would dissolve into one never ending mass. Apparently the clocks didn't work any slower just because one was immortal.

She'd showered for a long time, throwing ideas back and forth in the security of the bathroom. She's considered attempting to drown herself to get out of this mess before realizing that would be useless. Her guardian, who was on the other side of the bathroom door, had only given her twenty minutes before he'd come in to check on her and she'd already wasted most of it. She'd have to fill her lungs completely with water, silently at that, which wasn't possible while standing under the shower.

It was a bit freaky to find herself contemplating death because in all her human years on the run, she'd never given such serious thought to ending her life. It wasn't going to happen. Any change would alert him that she was doing something out of order and she was _not_ ready to face him completely naked and conscious of it if he stormed in again.

She'd toyed with the option of pleading with her father again once he made his appearance in the morning. If he did. Seconds later that train of thought was labeled as stupid and naive. She'd found her mind eventually wandering off towards the man sitting in her room right now. She was confused by him, to say the least. He was prepared to comfort her to a certain point, less than an hour after threatening her and making it clear that he did not give much of damn about the person she was. It was just a job to him.

Then again, he seemed to try to go beyond it being a grueling stay for them both. He'd actually made an effort to share something with her. He could have just remained silent the way he'd done before. Frankie Dalton was at least ninety-nine percent confusing.

After finally cutting off the stream of water and wrapping herself in a towel, she'd made a show of saying, "I'm still alive" to the door and she could hear him shift on the other side. He was listening. Satisfied that he wouldn't come in, she'd dried herself and then let the fluffy material slide to the ground. It was the first time she was presented with a mirror in weeks, and a full-length one at that, and she needed to see herself.

She'd got quite a shock at not being visible at all. Since this whole ordeal was the most surreal thing she'd ever experienced, she hadn't wasted thought on the fact that vampires did not throw a reflection in a mirror. She'd twisted and turned, tip-toed over the slick tiles from side to side, trying to catch a glimpse of something in the glass that wasn't going to appear. It left her feeling bodiless and empty. Finally she'd given up and stood dead straight in front of it, her face smooth as stone. It was as though her lack of reflection just emphasized that she wasn't real anymore. She'd felt like an illusion.

Her gaze had dropped down to her bare skin instead. She'd examined her own body critically like a doctor in search of the source of pain. It appeared unchanged. Well, with the exception of the monstrous things that had once been regular canines and the surely the colour of her iris.

Every spot was the same as before, even her skin tone hadn't lightened significantly yet. It was only a matter of time before the lack of sun would bleach it to the pallor of the people outside, those who tended to their gardens in the dark like it was complete normalcy. She could only shake her head at the view. Living, running, surviving with humans up until now had left her quite unaware of vampires' daily routines but this kind of behavior was ridiculous. Living in the dark was something she refused to adapt to.

When she'd finally snapped back to attention because the watchful bird outside the bathroom had pecked on the door, she'd slipped into her clothes without another look at the mirror. Giving her teeth a thorough brush as well, she evaded looking at the mirror, denying the discovery of her lost reflection. She finally re-entered her room distinctly cleaner than a week ago.

The sound of a pen causing friction on her desk had her looking over towards the window. Her captor was sitting at the table, scribbling something on a paper.

"Writing a letter?" she inquired.

"No"

She overlooked his curtness and sat against her twin bed's headboard, watching him. "Is my father coming tonight?"

"Possibly"

She was irked by his new lack of interest in conversation. She assumed that the outburst earlier had made him awkward and he wanted to avoid another scene at all costs by just evading interaction. She sighed, pushing away the memory now. It shouldn't have happened. Now she definitely gave off an unstable vibe. That didn't work well with her plan to establish some sort of trust with him.

"Look," she spoke with the strong, confident voice she reserved for instructions to younger runaways she'd been with, "What happened just now isn't going to happen again. I was still," she dug for a mature term, "adjusting"

He folded the paper he'd finished filling, not looking at her. He didn't reply for a while. She waited, watched and hoped for the right reaction.

"Nothing happened"

There it was. He was just going to overlook her outburst. She'd come to see that vampires liked to shut out what they didn't want to acknowledge. It had embarrassed him too.

"Good," she closed the unspoken pact of secrecy, smoothing a hand over her sweatshirt.

She knew her father would disapprove of the non-feminine clothing as soon as he walked through the door. She couldn't care less of his opinion. He'd died in her eyes a long time ago. Troublesome though, was the fact that she'd have to make him believe the opposite for the time being. She needed to embody his perfect daughter until an opening bared itself.

The interesting thing about her new species was that they didn't need to move as much as humans did. She could remain still without any voluntary muscles moving for hours and it would not faze her. It probably had to do with the greater attention span and physical control that her new body had. Vampires could focus much longer than humans. They didn't need a distraction or activity. She found herself not getting twitchy or uncomfortable at all. So she lay in her pillows and stared at the digital clock perched on her desk, next to the soldier's hand.

She watched it as he put the paper inside an envelope and sealed it. She watched the minutes flicker into double-digits as he stood and left her room. She was still watching, transfixed on the screen, as the hour changed. She found that time passed not faster and not slower than before, but always steadily, systematically. It didn't stop moving but she did. She had.

Everything she was physically had stopped ticking a week ago. She was a dead body that had simply been made to function again. She hadn't twitched a single sinew in two hours when Frankie passed by her room, speaking on a cell phone. Her eyes were drawn to him as he flashed past the doorway, his voice marble-smooth to whoever was on the other end. She listened to the resounding sound of metal hitting plastic as he snapped the phone shut. He was at the foot of her bed a second later.

"Your father's not coming. Not today."

She looked at him expressionlessly. Then her lips curled outwards in a satisfied, cynical smile that he didn't like at all. She had expected that her father would never abandon work hours to see her. It just proved that she wasn't that important at all. Not one bit.

"Of course not. Wrapped up in his work isn't he? What was his excuse?" she sneered.

"His secretary did not give one"

She shook her head and snickered softly. Her father was an asshole.

"I want to take a walk," she declared, hoisting herself off the bed in one motion and pulling her sneakers on, "I need to get out"

"You aren't allowed outside the house," her guard reminded her, strolling to block the room's exit as though a physical blockade would put her off the intention.

"Put a leash on me, then" she threw back, walking towards the door where he stood, "Where am I going to run to? The next-door neighbor so he can give me a lift?"

She was angry. He could sense it past the sarcastic exterior she'd put on to hide the hurt that the news had caused. As much as she hated her father, she'd at least expected him to express interest after keeping her alive. This had been a hit below the belt. Not only had Charles Bromley ordered somebody to take her life, he'd placed her into the prison of his own home and couldn't be bothered to visit.

Frankie had experienced this sort of rejection before and he knew the unacknowledged pain almost always transformed into rage. He could feel her fury like that of a bristling predator.

"I can't let you out," he spoke calmly, ignoring the dark flashes he saw in her eyes, "Even if you had the most logical argument"

"Fuck you," she snapped and shoved against him violently. The action reminded him of their interaction in the cell. Only that she'd been human then and her strength could never have rivaled what she had now. He actually staggered under the force and leaned onto the doorframe to regain balance.

She bared her fangs in a primal display of aggression and propelled her entire frame forward to knock him out of her way. He didn't budge. With a venomous growl, that surprised the both of them, she lunged and managed to squash the breath out of his lungs with her blow.

Caught by surprise, Frankie's grip on the doorway slipped for a moment, allowing her just the amount of slack she needed. Tackling the soldier, she used her momentum to bring him down onto the floor of the hallway.

The fighting instinct gripped Frankie harder than he expected as his back connected with the ground. He couldn't hold himself back. His fingers snatched the girl's wrists and he ripped her from her position as an attacker right onto his chest. Before she could think of reacting, he'd flipped them and brought her arms down to either side of her, never releasing his grip. If she could have bruised, her shoulders would have ached. His fangs had extended and all he felt was the need to be in control.

Alison thrashed underneath him like a panicked rabbit in the claws of an raptor. She managed to connect a knee with his thigh and land scratches on his hands, which pinned her, but she couldn't shake the weight off. It made it hard to regain his rational side enough to speak. She didn't present much of a threat but that didn't make her less of a fighter. However, that did nothing to alleviate the urge he had to hurt her into stopping right now. Preferably with his fangs.

"Listen," he hissed, speaking around the teeth, "Stop this drama or I'm going to have to tie you up and…"

He was going to add more warnings but was cut off when she brought her upper body off the ground and pressed her lips up flush against his.

Frankie felt himself go completely still in shock. This was the last thing on earth he'd expected her to do. Fight dirty, he could handle her trying that but what the hell was she doing _now_? His hands dropped from her skin and he automatically lifted himself up and away from her body to allow her space to back off. She didn't get the hint. Or didn't want to. Instead she followed him with her torso all the way, her hands fisting in his collar and keeping him close.

Her scent filled his mind but in a very different way than before. There was lust and passion where there shouldn't have been. His mouth hung onto hers eagerly and there simply was no stopping. His awareness expanded on its own accord and he was suddenly hyper-sensitive to the curve of her body against his and her skin tingling against his as their faces pressed together. Her touch had drifted downwards and even through his uniform, he could feel every finger running down to his hip.

Then it was gone.

Alison broke away, bringing just enough distance between them to haul out her arm and bash his own weapon against his head. The handle of the knife connected with his temple and he slumped sideways immediately. She knew too well that his vision was going black and a wildfire had exploded in his head.

She didn't let herself think about what she had done. She knew it was cruel and cheap to do this but how many choices did she have left?

Her anger gave her new bravery and that was all she'd needed as motivation. Her intentions had changed from walking off her frustration to getting out of here straight away. Spontaneous and snappy. He'd never seen it coming.

Leaping to her feet, she took flight down the hallway and was practically airborne as she cleared the staircase. The door had the key sticking in the lock and she ripped it out as she tore through. She smashed it closed and locked it to give herself another minute head start.

She saw a woman from the adjacent garden watching her with an affronted expression as she careened across the flowerbeds of the lawn. She saw the rainbow petals floating to the grass as she ran but couldn't bring herself to care. She needed to get to the road. Hitch a car. Track down a bus stop. Whatever it was, she needed to get onto a moving vehicle straight away and out of the district before Dalton caught up. She knew from experience that looking back only slowed down the escape so she kept her eyes on her environment, dashing along the road.

Why couldn't her father live in the city? If she'd gotten out onto the streets, there would have been no tracking her. In the hundreds of people heading to and from work, she could have made herself invisible within moments. Her feet pounded on the dark tarmac far too loudly. It deafened her in her adrenalin-heightened state. She reached the intersection at the end and cursed her luck. She didn't remember what direction they'd come from.

Opting for right because it was closest, she spurred herself on further. The properties flashed past her as though she was turning in circles too fast and her vision had gone blurry. She needed to find transport. At this rate she was too slow. Her captor could have a car at the ready for all she knew and he'd be on her back in minutes.

She didn't think at all about the fact that dawn would be breaking in less than a couple of hours. Somehow it hadn't registered yet that sun was just about as lethal to her now as it was to be tossed inside a furnace. Not like she had time to focus on that issue anyway. Her prime target was to distance herself from the vampire back in the house as much as possible, even if it was probably a losing battle.

She bounded across the road, trying to distinguish between dead-ends and crossroads as she sped past. Somewhere, there had to be the connective street that led to the main road. She allowed herself to pause for a moment, pressed against a house wall, to regain her calm. This franticness wouldn't get her anywhere. For a change, she blessed her ability to rationalize and assess quicker than a human.

From her position she could suddenly hear much clearer. The blood pounding in her head ceased and now every sound was amplified around her. There was a cat mewling around the corner, there was the steady rustle of leaves in the oleander bushes planted in a nearby garden and there were footsteps. No, more like pounding, hurried footfalls on the sidewalk. She bolted.

She made it exactly ten meters out of the shadows that the house had cast before she picked up the rapid increase in the footfalls behind her. Another twenty and she swore she felt the ground vibrating underneath her. She swerved wildly to confuse her pursuer then grabbed the nearest aid she could find. In this case, it was a hedge that circled around another perimeter of property. There weren't many paths left.

She couldn't look back. He was too close, she could feel him gaining on her. She needed help. Play the girl who was being chased by a psychopath or something. The option of running wasn't going to work anymore.

Vaulting over the bristly greenery was one thing but managing to locate another person to seek assistance from was the near impossible part. She prayed there was somebody home here. If whoever lived here was at work, she was screwed. Beyond screwed.

The leaves stuck to her hands and she could feel a trickle of blood in the centre of her palm where an unlucky thorn had lodged itself. Her body felt about ready to explode from the pressure of not knowing how this chase would end. Behind her, the snapping of branches alerted her to _his_ pursuit. No. She wasn't letting this chance pass her by. She needed to be faster. She flew up to the back door, pounding her fists against the wood in a desperate rhythm.

"Please!" she screamed, "Please! Help me!"

The crunch of twigs and leaves under his weight came closer. Alison let out an anguished yell and punched the door with all the strength she could muster. "Open up damn it!"

But there was no one. No motherly woman pulling the door open in surprise, no handsome lawyer opening to remind her of the violation of the trespassing sign at the front, not even a family father who would be beyond shocked to find a panicked girl being hunted in his backyard. There was no rescue. She'd picked the wrong house.

She cursed. It was a bad habit she'd picked up. She cursed and thumped her hands against the door as though it was of use. Her hair flew into her face as she struggled against the hands that dragged her away from the house. She swore at him in every possible way she could think off, deluding herself that it had an effect. He gripped her around the waist with an iron arm and even though she clawed at the limb repeatedly, he didn't loosen it. His face could have been carved in stone.

The journey back to the mansion seemed so much shorter than before. Maybe it was because she had run in circles or because he knew the quickest path. She had never felt more pathetic than now. She'd barely managed to flee half a kilometer.

He hauled her through the front door without batting an eyelash as her side caught the frame squarely. She hissed on impact and repressed the telltale sound of pain pass her lips. The lady from the house next door had vanished. It occurred to her that she could have just asked her for help. It resulted in her feeling even more pitiful than before.

He threw her onto the couch in a gesture that betrayed his fury. If not at her, then at himself. She plucked the demon thorn out of her hand and watched the wound shed a little more blood. She licked her dry lips, thinking of the burning sensation it had left in her throat last time. Sort of like intense alcohol, she supposed. Pleasant at first, then leaving her sick and miserable.

Frankie reappeared in front of her after vanishing in the kitchen for a moment. She'd barely raised her face to him when she found his eyes inches from hers. She shied back instinctively, cringing in her position on the seat, fearing the ice in his gaze. Golden, chilling and unforgiving. He was hovering over her like a demon ready to pounce on an innocent soul and devour it. She couldn't swallow. There were no words for her to use to avoid punishment for what she'd just done.

There was a cold hand on her wrist, then a soft click as metal gripped onto metal. Alison didn't even need to look down to know she was handcuffed. She'd had nightmares about being cuffed and chained to a harvesting machine before. Fear ran down her spine with its feet like needles, digging into the sensitive nerves. The soldier leaned in closer, his face still neutral and ran a thumb along her cheek.

She stopped breathing. The contact was enough to let her know he had full control again.

"I think," he murmured, staring into her eyes, engraving his message on her widening pupils, "You really shouldn't have done that"


	7. Consequence

_Bromley Mansion, Ground Floor, Living Room_

Frankie couldn't remember a time when he'd felt such confusion. The last time surely dated back to his human days. He swore his eyes must be burning with all the conflicts that were erupting inside him right now. He was beyond the point where he could tell if this feeling was directed at himself or solely at _her_. She was responsible for this slip-up.

Letting her go so far as to use physical force on him was the first mistake he'd made. Responding to her kiss had been his second. Giving in to his fucking hormones was the biggest. He hadn't even felt her hand creep into his pocket to withdraw the weapon because he'd been too dazed.

What made it worse was that he'd been inattentive because he felt something for this girl. He couldn't explain the gut feeling he'd gotten when she'd pressed herself against him. It wasn't normal to feel like that as a vampire. If it had been lust, he could have handled it. But what had flooded his body in that moment was something he hadn't experienced for years. He was certain that something was wrong with him. Allowing himself to be stripped of his rationality was downright stupid.

The collision of the knife butt with his head had left him stunned and sightless for almost a minute. She was more practiced in combat tricks than he knew. There had been fireworks whizzing across his vision and though he'd tried to focus on them, they had drifted out of his sight the second he tried. Then the pain had come, radiating into his skull and washing away the dizziness so he could see again. It had also rendered him unable to move for quite some time.

He'd felt the bruising under his skin and cursed in multiple fashions as he'd heaved himself onto his knees. The corridor had been strangely askew as he managed to get onto his feet but he'd stayed up. His limbs had carried him down the stairs and as the pain had spread further through his head because he'd whipped it towards the door; he'd known he'd fucked up.

The door had been wide open and the night sky had greeted him. It had also been empty. No Alison.

How had he not seen this coming? He should have never taken the handcuffs off. He should have sensed it as soon as she put her lips on his. Like hell would she show physical affection after expressing her disgust for what he stood for. He should have known then and there that she had an ulterior motive. Reflecting on it now, he couldn't believe the lack of control he'd had over himself. He was supposed meant to use his head to think, not other parts of the anatomy.

Naturally, he'd stormed after her, following the direction of a very startled woman who had been tending her garden next door. He'd looked intimidating enough in his uniform that she hadn't asked questions, simply pointed down the road. Or it had been the blazing predator appearance he'd sported when he'd rushed outside. He'd been furious. Either way, the neighbor had saved him precious time.

As he ran and followed the scent of adrenalin, he'd tried to gather his cool. At this rate, she was probably thinking clearer than him and that would give her the advantage exactly the way it had worked two minutes ago. The streets were empty and he was glad for it. In a crowd, it would have been harder to find her. The wind gusting through the maze of roads and houses carried her scent and he followed the trail like a wolf.

He couldn't let her escape. It would cost him, everything. His reputation and goodwill with his boss, his job most likely, his position in the high middle class and most importantly his direct link to blood. At this time, nobody could afford slack. Alison Bromley was his key to a good life and if he didn't have her back by the time the sun rose, chances were high that she'd burn. She probably wanted it that way.

He'd passed an impressive mansion and paused when he realized how intense the sensation of another vampire close by became. She was straight ahead, taking a break surely, because there was no way he'd have caught up so fast after that head start. He prowled along the hedges that lined the pavement, quickening his steps the further he got, senses sharpened to their fullest. There.

Like a rabbit darting from its cover, she'd abandoned her cover. He hadn't seen her just yet but the noise that erupted around the corner as she fled was enough indication. He'd rounded the bend and seen what he'd pictured. She had practically flown across the tarmac, trying to gain distance again but he'd seen the panic fueling her movements. They'd been too rapid. She had been pushing herself to her limits already because it was her last attempt.

He'd let her have her chance at breaking in through the back door of the house she'd veered to and took his time catching up with her. He admired her for still hoping somebody would help her. Although it was more if a sick idea of revenge by leaving her in the belief that she could escape. Latest by the time he pulled out his ID, the inhabitants would have backed off without question. Sparing the people inside the trouble, he'd closed in on her.

Grabbing her off the back porch hadn't been hard. She'd fired a string of such graphic words at him that had him wondering about the kind of company she must have had to learn that vocabulary. He'd felt slightly delirious with pain and adrenalin during the chase but now cold certainty hit him. He felt his facial muscles freeze into place and his arms become a cage around her. He didn't felt the blows she rained down on his back nor the knee she dug into his stomach repeatedly on the walk back. His body became irrelevant.

He only needed to finish his task and do it in control. Whatever superficial injuries he received along the way shouldn't bother him. Any more slacking from here on out and he would personally resign from his position. There would be no more mistakes on his part, he promised. She could kick and scream all she wanted because it didn't matter anymore.

The house door was still open and he passed through mindless of the fact that she was still squirming and therefore thudded against the frame. Not with one peep did she acknowledge the pain but he felt her body tense as she clenched her teeth. He kicked the door shut with his heel and it smashed into its lock with a force that had her cringing. Good. He couldn't wait to execute the punishment for her stunt.

He ditched her rebellious body on the sofa, knowing she didn't have the guts to try running a second time. He would place all his money on the fact that she wouldn't manage it onto the pavement. Actually, not even out of the door. She was exhausted, she must be. Her first proper drink of blood had been half a day ago. She needed to replace all that energy she'd wasted in her failed escape. She was in no shape to manage another bolt.

He rummaged through his bag in the kitchen, pulling the stupid handcuffs back out. She'd been so much more pleasant without them on and had used her first unbound opportunity. He should have foreseen that.

She had remained on the sofa, her arms looped around her sides and clasped below her pulled up knees. She looked childlike. Submissive almost. He could imagine her turning puppy-eyes on him and asking him to accept her apology. Not that she would give one. She was too stubborn for that. He needed to at least embed the message that he wasn't one to be messed with.

He positioned himself right in front of her so that his legs touched the toes of her sneakers. She flinched away from his scrutiny and leaned back involuntarily as his face neared hers. He kept his expression unreadable as his hands wandered towards hers. He took in the paling of her face as the metallic click of the handcuffs echoed in the silence. Her struggle to swallow because panic was clogging her throat was a welcome sight. He wanted to click his tongue softly like a parent would and explain to her,_ You can't swallow fears. They just get worse. They creep into the rest of your body and you can't get rid of them anymore._

Soothingly, he let his thumb trail down her cheek and saw with satisfaction that his touch sent her further into whatever phobia was taking hold of her. Bloodlust flamed inside of him at her display of fear when her pupils widened and suddenly her breathing halted. She waited, breathless for the verdict. He smiled. Slowly and missing emotion.

"I think you really shouldn't have done that"

Her eyes squeezed shut. She inhaled and waited for the torture.

He looked at her steeling herself against him as though he was about to strike her across the face. He was surprised that she'd resigned herself to accepting his control. She must know that he wasn't allowed to harm her. He was here to _protect_ her. He couldn't hurt her for this. He hadn't known it was possible to be so torn between bashing his own head against a wall and doing the same to hers.

He gripped the link of the cuffs and tugged it upwards so her arms rose above her head and she had to stand up with the motion in order to avoid ripping them out of their sockets. She was almost touching him now, standing and staring at him with undiluted fear, trying to figure out his actions before he committed them. He watched a hundred options of what he might do to her passing through her eyes. He almost laughed at her. Did she really think he could physically harm her and get away with it?

"What was that up there?" he asked instead, his voice collected and not hinting at the crazy, verbal duels happening in his head.

She dropped her eyes to the floor and pressed her lips together. That didn't help because he nudged her chin up with his hand again and repeated the question, only with an accompanying snarl, "What the hell was that up there?"

She couldn't get any words out. She was the deer caught in the headlights and there simply was no answer. Her lips moved soundlessly and she looked so helpless that he couldn't stop himself any longer. He laughed.

She blanched violently at the noise and he let her go, moving forward again so she fell back onto the sofa in her attempt to keep a certain space between their bodies. That didn't stop him. Cuffed as she was, she didn't manage to angle her hands in such a way that she could press them against his chest to keep him away. Neither did she dare to hit him again. He was glad she finally knew what was best for her. His laughter faded as the proximity grew and but his eyes mocked her.

"What? Don't tell me you thought I would just overlook that you bash my head in?" he sneered at her face, "Just like I wouldn't notice that you would run off because you kissed me senseless? Was that the plan, huh?"

"No," she whispered, trying to make her voice firmer.

"Let me make one thing very clear," he bent close to her ear, "You're. Not. Going. Anywhere. There's nobody out there. The vampires aren't going to pity you and the humans aren't going to let you anywhere near them. Nobody that you can trust. So stop trying."

She remained still in her seat and didn't look up at him. It was as though the truth of his words had sunken into her body and left her without any will to reject his order.

For once he didn't feel compelled to make her feel better because she'd brought this on herself and he couldn't find it in him to ignore the throbbing in his temple. Not to mention the disgusting feeling of failure she'd sparked in him when she fled. He abhorred feeling as though he'd failed somebody and in that moment he'd ruined the faith that Charles Bromley had placed in him.

He pushed away from the cushions of the sofa and stood in front of her, waiting for her to raise her head and acknowledge what he'd said. To admit defeat.

"Can't you just take out your anger on me now and get it over with? I know you're itching to," she demanded, still facing his shoes instead of his eyes.

He gave that some thought for a bit before he moved his head to the side in denial.

"No," he said and found it was true. He wasn't going to because, really, what was there to do?

Depraving her of blood as punishment was forbidden. So was physical harm. Psychological beating was out of the question because he was meant to _keep_ her from committing suicide, not pitch her towards it. Even if he were one to hold grudges, there wasn't much he could do without risking everything. He didn't want to add that he wasn't exactly thrilled to cause her any pain even though he'd been trained in the infliction of excruciating but invisible injuries. He couldn't. She always had the chance of spilling it to her father, even if she despised him almost as much as she did Frankie.

Alison grew rigid with annoyance. Apparently once he dropped the ferocious demeanor, her resilience came straight back.

"Then stop asking me these questions!" her voice rose, fear disappearing behind frustration, "You know the answers anyway! I distracted you to get out and it almost worked. I did it in the most disgusting, low way imaginable but I'd do it all over again if there was a chance I'd make it out this time. I know I'd stab you right through the chest if it meant I'd get my freedom!"

"Weren't you listening to me? Who are you going to go to?" he countered calmly, ignoring her threat, "Which one of your human friends is going to help you when you're suddenly the enemy?"

"You don't know anything about them so why don't you just shut the hell up!" she snarled, leaping from the couch to stand almost nose-to-nose with him, "I'm not you. I don't skip along the road sucking on humans whenever I feel like it"

"Right," he agreed sarcastically, "You're just like my brother. The human-lover. But you can trust me when I tell you this," he dropped his tone to a whisper, "When you smell freshly leaking blood, straight from the body, you're not going to think about your relationship with that person. You're going to suck your best friend dry for all you care when it comes to it."

"Never"

"Eternity is long. If there's one of your humans left by the time your Father allows you out, I'll prove it to you"

"You're sick" she accused him.

"Says the girl who sexually assaults me"

How did he say that with such a straight face? She wondered absently, even though she was more concentrating on keeping her jaw from dropping at the incredulity of his statement. She bet that any street thug had more manners.

"You can't assault the willing," she shot back, challenging him.

His eyes flickered. She only picked it up because she was barely an inch away from him otherwise she'd have passed it off as a trick of the light. Either she'd just had a mirage happen in front of her eyes or she'd hit the truth on the head.

He didn't jibe back and as the silence stretched the space started to fill with recent memories. Her eyes involuntarily moved from his eyes down to his mouth, which just happened to be exactly on her eye-level. His gaze moved down with hers and rested on her lips in the same gesture. When had they even moved so close together?

Then he let out his breath and backed off. She felt the air rush in between their bodies as the gap widened. He simply looked cold again. A man carved into ice.

"Don't run again," was all he said before he went back into the kitchen.

Alison watched his back as he zipped up his bag and stowed multiple weapons from his uniform in the side pockets. He seemed completely detached from the entire episode that had just happened. She'd thought he would actually kill her. He certainly had looked murderous as he'd carried her home. Then, it was as if a mask had been placed onto that face and he'd simply warned her again. Not even a threat.

She stared at the handcuffs that circled her wrists again. She hated those things but this time, he had a point for putting them on her.

She glanced back at him as he worked, watching the solid arms flex under the jacket. She could still feel them clenched in barely contained anger around her midsection.

Her next attempt would have to be better. A whole lot better.


	8. Pasts

_Bromley Mansion, First Floor, Bedroom_

Had Alison not been so furious with everything that her life consisted of right now, she might have appreciated the patterns of shadow that the breaking dawn sketched across the neighborhood.

The watercolor hues that the morning light created in the darkness were beautiful, no doubt, but for her unreachable. She simply couldn't find anything positive about the sight. She half wished the night should come back because she couldn't be part of the day anymore.

Her new body opened her doors to actions that had been physically impossible for her as a human. It also forbade her contact with sunlight. It was incredible to feel such a craving towards a thing she'd witnessed every morning for many years without a second thought. Now it was a temptation. She wondered what was worse - to be changed early enough to not know the tingle of sunlight on skin or to have experienced it but be torn away through the transition.

She was sideways on her bed, facing the windows with her knees drawn up to her chest, her bound hands sheltered in the cavern between her abdomen and legs. The two single windows of the room faced her and she followed the rising light with narrowing pupils as the world grew visible. She hated how it pained her to look towards the horizon. She wanted to tear her eyes open and stare into the sun until she burned, just to triumph against this unwanted weakness.

That's why she unfolded from her position, as a soft, mechanical buzzing sounded close by. In a moment she was almost pressed against the window, which was slowly but surely obscured by the black shutters that were sliding down. The automatic timer had activated to protect the inhabitants of the mansion. She wanted to break the window and tear them away. Her desire to see the light again was so powerful that she felt the need to scream with frustration. But she didn't.

She watched, rigid, as the last slivers of glass were covered and the noises of the tiny motors responsible stopped. The world was back in black and it felt more isolated than it had been in her cell. How could nobody else find this feeling terrible? Being so close, a simple opening of a door away, from what had once been perfectly normal and now was a death trap. Had her life been a movie, she wouldn't have appeared ridiculous if she sank down on her knees and cried for the simple things she'd lost in only one insane week.

Reality was different. She was a vampire in a world of vampires where even considering such a useless emotional display was deemed a waste of time. She was meant to be detached from emotions, a logical thinker who set her priorities in line with blood and most definitely not feeling sorry that she couldn't face the sun.

This realization had her looking for distraction again. She didn't _want_ to pine away for her human life. It didn't change the situation. She knew it was fruitless and she'd pretty much accepted that there was no turning back. It didn't make the hurt go away though. Maybe she couldn't express it well anymore, but it was inside her nonetheless and it pained her whenever she gave it attention.

She needed to look for an activity that didn't require thinking. She was tired of lying around. Tired of thinking back through her failed escape and picking out the parts that she could have changed. Creating possibilities of freedom in her head. Hours had passed and she hadn't gotten further than before.

But being cuffed didn't mean she was incapable. She wandered across her room, looking through the meek supply of book spines on the shelf. Every story she'd read at least twice and they were still in her head. She didn't have a computer and she figured that her father had removed internet access anyway to avoid her contacting anybody who could come to the rescue. Not that she knew anybody who did. Not anymore.

Months ago, the time she'd still been hiding out in Ohio with strangers who quickly grew closer than family, they'd stolen a phone to attempt to contact family or fellow runaways. She'd declined the option because there was nobody to call. She'd exchanged contact details then and there but they were no use to her now. Those people were all gone.

The pretty blonde Sienna White had shared her blanket with her when Alison had lost hers in a breakneck escape from a warehouse raid. She was snatched up two weeks later after trying to move up north in direction of Canada, heading for Alaska. The amount of blanket Alison had to herself increased after that.

Heath Garrison who'd first snitched her wallet only to meet and recognize her again in a safe house a few days later and hand it back shamefully, apologizing. She'd never begrudged him, knowing all too well how desperate one got after starving for a week. He'd barely used any, purchasing goods for a group of four from a provision camp. He was anything but selfish. In the end, it got him killed after he'd thrown himself in front of a fellow traveler during a fight with starving vampires. They vanished that night. A failed hero.

Even the New Yorker Nate Redford, whom she'd occasionally been more than a friend to, had been washed off the face of her world. Going out to gather supplies and not returning after twilight had long come and gone, he was presumed dead. Nobody should be out after dark. It was the time when vampires were the big and mighty ones. The time when the darkness was on _their_ side. So it was probably true. She doubted he would abandon the group that had assembled in the cellars of what had once been a church. A group meant weapons, backup, food and safety. Herd animals worked the same way to stay alive.

That ruled out somebody else she may have contacted.

It was worse to realize that she couldn't feel much when thinking about the people she'd grown close to. Her memories were no longer linked to feelings such as hope, joy or longing. They were just fragments of an old life. People that she'd known. She cursed her father once again for taking this from her. Human beings she'd admired and appreciated more than him, were fading from her mind and her feelings for them were barely real anymore. Her previous life had turned into a dream. It was like recalling events out of a history books.

There were still the people who'd been gracious enough to take her along to the human enclave in their caravan not ten days ago. If any of them had survived or were still human and able to help her, she would readily start believing in miracles. But since four years, there had been no miracles in her life. No sudden extinction of this virus that had changed everyone for the worst. No reverting of the populations to human form. The danger hadn't disappeared, she'd only moved out of its radar.

Alison snapped out her daydream when her hearing picked up on something new. Clothing rustling, shifting, dropping onto a surface. Instinctively, she followed the sound. She only noticed later that she'd been moving like a predator, with strained shoulders, bent knees and rolling off the balls of her feet to minimize noise. As though she'd wanted to pounce on the source, which could only have been the other person in this house. She paused in her doorway, eyes trained down the corridor, careful to avoid the scrape of her cuffs against another. Conveniently, her gaze landed right on the target.

It was a sight that had her frozen in her position, not because it genuinely shocked her but because her head suddenly seemed to forget how to react to such a situation.

There was the skin of a bare back facing her from inside Frankie's room. His jacket was discarded on the covers along with the white shirt. Draping on top of the pile was a long white piece of gauze that he was rhythmically removing from his arm. She'd noticed earlier that he had removed the sling upon their arrival but the bandage remained. More and more material landed on the bed and she did nothing but hover and stare at the body that was being exposed to her.

It wasn't just the flexing movement of his muscles as he shook the arm out, stretched the limb and twisted it a few times to shake out the tension. It wasn't even the nasty bruising that covered the skin. Really she didn't know what had her so drawn to the sight. Maybe because it showed all too clearly that he wasn't just a cruel, indestructible figure, a soldier sworn loyal to her father, somebody she could despise as much as she wanted. He was a person. He had a body like hers under that uniform. He wasn't invulnerable just like her.

She realized that she hadn't come across another unclothed body in a long time. At least not a live body. A body that she had beheld with such interest.

Frankie's back arched forward as he leant on his arm, testing the threshold of pressure it could take again. His spine pressed against the skin and she focused on the drawing he had on his back. It was a tattoo that she hadn't paid attention to in her first shock but as he moved, the wings of the tribal creature filled her view and she zeroed in on the ink design. A bird of sorts, established from an arrangement of curving lines and shapes in black. Two wings reaching across the shoulder blades, the tail feathers curved downwards in a sloping, curve with its tip touching his central spine. She followed every single line on his back with her eyes, fascinated by their complexity, their lack of symmetry.

He moved again, taking up a fresh bandage and making quick work of wrapping it around his lower arm. She allowed herself to drift off again, looking at the base of his skull and the skin stretching over his neck to the head with the short hair. In pure flesh he looked almost more intimidating than with the army jacket on. Yet, she was taking in the image of him before her with everything else in mind but fear.

It was somewhat funny that he'd caught her undressing and now it was the opposite way around. Though she was more of a voyeur than him because she was _purposely_ watching and wasn't turning away. Absently, she wondered if it was some sort of instinct to be so intensely drawn to another vampire. Maybe it was linked with her acute hate for vampires in general that made her want to observe them. Or just one in particular at the moment.

She studied the bird again. She wanted to know if he'd gotten it as a human. It was more likely. Vampires, it seemed to her, didn't find emotional importance in decorating their bodies. Vampires also had regenerated quickly. Maybe it was impossible to receive a tattoo once you were transformed because the ink could be seen as harmful by the body and the skin would automatically renew itself. She was curious.

"Why a bird?" she wondered aloud and the soldier turned his head in her direction without haste. So he wasn't surprised. He'd known she was standing there but had chosen to ignore it. Too late, she realized that she'd broken the mutual silence that had stood between them, which she'd determinedly held on to for the remainder of tonight. She knew it was wrong to hold a grudge because it was his job but it had brought her out of her self-destructive phase. Nothing would be sweeter than escaping from under his arms.

For the first time since she'd been removed from her prison and carted over here, she looked at the face of the man. Not the calculating eyes, not the vampire characteristics of the expression but the whole face. Since she was analyzing the entire body anyway, it didn't feel like she was betraying her vow to see him as an enemy rather than a friend.

He had a softer profile than she'd thought. His nose was not the perfectly straight shape she'd envisioned. Neither was the chin and mouth that of a statue. It was more suited for a sullen boy who'd grown up too soon. The large eyes just added to that picture. He pulled on his T-shirt again and faced her.

"It's a phoenix," he explained. At least he wasn't giving her the cold treatment anymore, "I had it done before. It didn't have any meaning then. A friend got one, I got one, I guess it was a mutual sign that we were tough. Not that we were real friends. Friendship was a fake word for the relationships I had when I was nineteen," he paused, looking down at the carpet as if it was a film of the past, "The phoenix was spontaneous. It looked good on paper so I got it. I only saw the connection when I joined this life. It was my sign for starting over as someone different"

She hadn't expected that much of a life story behind it but she didn't complain. For him it appeared unnatural to open up about himself so that he was actually talking from his own free will was a good sign. Not logical, but she didn't care to question it.

"Someone different? Why?"

He tore himself away from the carpet and shot her a glance that spoke of how irritated he was at her lack of knowledge. "Because I wasn't a very good human," he finally said, a cynical smile plastered on his face. She didn't like it. He didn't bother to appear genuine.

Alison reflexively raised her chin in retaliation to his tone and didn't even consider letting up. "What am I meant to get from that?"

"There's nothing to interpret. Just that who I am now and who I was as a human, are two very different people and that I prefer this one"

She hadn't realized that there was a self-observant side to him. Well, at least he could talk to her again without making it a threat or an instruction.

"I definitely prefer the human," Alison responded, thinking back to the life she'd led up till now and knowing there wasn't anything she would change. Apart from the being in constant danger maybe.

Frankie misinterpreted her words and laughed humorlessly, "He was nothing. The black sheep of the family. He could have been an orphan with all the attention he got from his parents. They didn't care for him if they could focus on their medicine-majoring son"

After a second of confusion, it clicked that he was talking about himself in third person. As though it was a completely different guy he was speaking of. As though that person had died. She hoped she wouldn't sound that way when speaking of her human days after a certain time.

"Well, I'm sorry about the way your life went"

His stance didn't change but his face smoothed out again and he just looked at her. She wished she could read the blank page that he pasted on his expression.

"Though I'd still prefer you human"

"You wouldn't," he stated with absolution and slipped back into his jacket, leaving it open. In the semi-darkness, his white shirt glowed compared to the rest of their clothing.

It made her sick with frustration to hear him constantly putting down the human race. Weirder even, it made her angry to listen to him put his human self down. Worst of all, she fumed at his assumption that he knew what she thought of him. That was the weakness that made her reckless.

"I bet you wanted the change because you were shit scared of becoming food. You didn't want to bother fighting it so you just became part of the winning team. That's the side I'd hate if I had known you"

He didn't let that sit on him. In a second he was out of the room and almost nose to nose with her. His calmness had fallen away to reveal the person that he was when his pride was attacked. She wasn't intimidated by his proximity anymore because she'd gone through this procedure several times now but she was well aware of his scent, which she focused more on than her sight in the absence of proper light. The house had switched off the lamps as soon as the shutters had closed, assuming that the inhabitants were asleep. The darkness wasn't a hurdle for their improved sight but everything was definitely less clear and defined than before. Her other senses were more alert than her eyes.

"Don't assume things that you have no idea of," he growled and his voice betrayed the wavering control he kept on his body. She felt his hands shake at his sides, could sense the tiny movements in the dark. He probably wanted to throttle her for her words, just like he could with all of her father's enemies.

"Don't assume you know what I think of you," she bit right back, staring into his gold iris' that were almost swallowed by his large pupils. "You say you weren't a good human. You make it sound like a profession. It's not something you have to or can be good at. It's who you are. So what if you're the one in the family that isn't the best. It's your life and you can make something out of it if you want to. You didn't have to die and become _this_ to change"

He went pale. That muscle in his jaw twitched dangerously as he closed his eyes. It made him look like a furious ghost. She became very aware of her disadvantage in position. Her back against the doorframe, her hands cuffed and caught between their bodies so she couldn't raise them in defense. She was really in over her head playing with fire today. If he lost it now, she was dead.

But he didn't. He only pinned her with his eyes and if it was true that they were the window to the soul, even for vampires, then she saw the self-doubt he had in him at that moment.

"You have no idea who I am," he told her and his voice was a whisper like he wanted nobody else but her to hear them, "But you say all this… as if you'd known me then"

His sudden insecurity at her observations made her strangely glad. So he really had a side that was prepared to listen, to question, maybe to change. Again, he was back to human in her presence and she was pleased to hear him speak, for a moment, like he didn't know what to say anymore.

"I met many people while I was out there. A lot of them gave up running and tried to infest themselves so they wouldn't die. They were scared of death and honestly, I don't blame them. You're not that different. You thought it was a better way of life for you," she paused and her lips curved up mischievously at the corners, "I still don't know you, almost nothing about you. So you don't have to be worried that I'll go around the neighborhood telling your deepest, darkest secrets"

"I wasn't concerned"

He didn't return the smile but his lips twitched at the comment. There we go, almost a laugh, she congratulated silently. He leaned back, letting himself rest against the opposite side of the doorframe and tucked his hands in his pockets. With the movement away from her, any threat she'd felt coming from him, disappeared into thin air. All she sensed was a new level of companionship. Maybe not that close, but a mutual understanding.

"Don't get me wrong, I'd like to know you," she said, looking at the stitched-on Bromley Marks logo on his uniform, "I'm just not sure if you would want that"

Now he was confused, "Why?"

"Because you're my prison guard. So anything I know about you, I could use against you," she shrugged at his perplexed silence. A moment later, realized she was messing with him and raised an eyebrow at the sudden familiar tone she struck with him. As though she'd decided that they could be some form of friends, not constant, destined-to-be enemies.

"Good thing I forgot my diary at home," he quipped and she had to snicker as he adapted the same playful language she used on him.

"Lucky you"

And just like that, she'd broken the ice exterior and had wormed her way back under his skin. Deeper and more dangerously orientated than before. The trust was being established again and if she worked on gathering his weak points together one by one, she'd be out of here within the next week. This time, there wouldn't be any mistakes in her plan.


	9. News

_Bromley Mansion, Ground Floor, Kitchen_

For the fifth time since arriving, Frankie watched carefully as his precious detainee sized up the drink he'd set down in front of her, then slowly, under his scrutiny, reached forward and took hold of the glass. He watched sideways as she brought it to her mouth, sneaked a glance over at him and held his gaze as she tipped it down her throat.

She'd been playing this game the past two days. Always keeping her eyes on his whenever she would drink, mocking, proving to him that she was being as placid as he secretly hoped to keep her. The problem with this was that he felt these moments, when they both took in their daily rations, were slowly becoming very intimate sessions.

He'd find himself focusing on her lips stained red before her tongue swiped across to lick up any evidence of it. He told himself that this flare of inner heat came from the sight of the blood even though it was clear he was kidding himself. His stomach had long been sated. Looking at her now, he could barely envision the dirt-streaked human that he'd first knocked out in 's office.

This undead Alison had taken him off guard with her change in attitude over the last forty-eight hours. Following her observation of his tattoo, she'd begun conversing with him as though she'd never thought differently of him. As though a switch had been turned in her head and she was suddenly receptive to anything he said and basically all up for building some form of familiarity between them.

Puzzled and on guard as he'd instinctively become, he'd taken to watching her subtly with all the expertise he'd gained at work. He remembered his first couple of weeks wearing a uniform and gun. There was nothing remotely close to familiarity between the soldiers. Nobody trusted anybody; even in the vampire community there was always that underlying tension. One would call it animal rivalry.

His first assumption was that it was another technique of hers to steal her way past his defenses in order to make another run for it, but if that was the case, she was taking it painfully slow. He'd purposely left a couple of openings yesterday, allowing her to lock the bathroom door when she showered, going as far as to letting her open a window to let in some fresh air as soon as the sun had set. Nonetheless, she hadn't set a foot out of line. Neither had she gotten into physical contact with him again.

It was bothering him to no end that he couldn't figure her out. Multiple opponents that he'd faced, whether human or vampire had been easy to predict and occasionally he even got bored with the rounding up of humans because they always, always chose the same methods of escape. They really enforced the fact that they were born creatures that liked to stay in groups and driving that mob into a corner was really the simplest task he had to master. The adrenalin rushes made up for the repetitiveness of it but the raids were never an impossible challenge.

He didn't get tired of looking at Alison though. Right now, it was the way her lips were flushed a darker color than before her feeding and how she nonchalantly leaned back in her seat now and pushed the glass into the centre of the table. A careless, relaxed gesture. There was always a new detail to be found about her and he would ask himself every time how he could have missed it. If he had been on duty in an environment that was far more hostile he'd have cursed himself for being inattentive. He didn't know that this discomfort of not knowing her inside out came from the growing attraction inside.

"Am I going to get bad behavior points if I don't ask for a refill?" the girl in question asked, sending a mocking smile in Frankie's direction, breaking his reverie.

"If I actually kept tabs on your behavior," he responded seriously, moving to take her glass and dump it in the dishwasher with his, "So it's your lucky day"

"Isn't that what you're paid for?" she probed, pulling up her feet onto the chair and wrapping her arms around her knees. There was the change. She'd gone from confident and sly to a little child listening to a fairytale at story time. Frankie had never supposed a vampire could look innocent but she actually managed it. When she wasn't angry or brooding.

"No. I monitor what you do"

He wasn't entirely sure how much she was allowed to know so he left out the gritty details of what he was doing. She didn't press the subject.

"I bet this wasn't what you signed up for. Babysitting seems kind of out of place for a guy in a uniform," She stated with a quirk to her lips. He suppressed the urge to tell to quit the mockery only because found himself enjoying the loose conversation too much to force her into silence yet.

"As long as changing diapers isn't involved, it's not the end of the world"

She laughed softly under her breath. Then her tone grew less euphoric. "Who has to worry about the world ending when we're already _dead_?"

"You don't look particularly lifeless to me," he observed, nudging the dishwasher shut with his heel. Alison didn't even give him the satisfaction of a deadpan glare but stretched out her legs, placing them on the tabletop and examining her bare feet thoughtfully. He'd noticed that she didn't care much about general manners. She had evidently been living rough for quite some time, where wasting time on politeness was unnecessary.

"Like anything you see in a vampire's face is actually true," she muttered. Of course he heard it perfectly clearly. He could sense her inner barricades slipping down over her brief good mood again.

"I thought you're one of the most honest ones I know"

She let her head fall sideways so that her hair spilled over the back of her chair and she was looking at him from an angle. Her expression was wiped clean. "What made you think that?"

"You speak your mind, no matter if it gets you in shit or not," he shrugged, "You say you don't care if you die or not and you mean it. Others, they can say it but in their last moments it can't be more obvious that they do. They were scared of dying. Permanently."

She turned back to look at her bare legs and the little child demeanor vanished with the smirk that adorned her face then. "Maybe I'm less honest than you think"

"Good, I was beginning to think you're abnormal," he feigned relief at those words even though there was surely a measure of hidden meaning behind them. It got her to grin back at him for a second though.

"Sure. Which normal person doesn't have a personal bodyguard, a dysfunctional family and a massive house to themselves?" she wondered with exaggerated surprise, raising her chin to fix her golden eyes on the window behind him, "Ah, and a Mercedes in her front yard?"

Frankie didn't even turn. He'd spotted the car when they'd first arrived but killed his admiration for the impressive silver machine in order to focus on the vital things at hand. Now that she mentioned it though…

"Sorry, I can't let you out for a test drive," he added expressionlessly, half-turning to secretly admire it too. No matter how vampires were essentially indifferent to material things that weren't blood, there was no killing the admiration for stylish cars.

"What you can and what you will do are two different things," she responded in a philosophical manner, abandoning her place on the chair and standing beside him in a beat, leaning her hands on both sides of the sink to get a better view, "Come on. Don't you trust me to behave when I'm cuffed and bound?"

That put pictures of the worst kind in his head and he had to force them away before they even wandered into his subconscious. The damage was done though. He attention was no longer on the sleek car but on the tall, slim female leaning, in a position that now seemed ridiculously tempting, against the kitchen counter with her chestnut hair spilling over her shoulders. The cuffs she was constantly in now were glinting at him conspiratorially. He cleared his throat and simply said, "No"

There it was, that judging look she turned on him. Only ten times closer than before. Her line of sight was exactly parallel with his nose so she even had her head angled up towards him. The curve her upper body and throat made towards him wasn't helping. He had his control in place but the fiery intelligence of her gaze made him waver.

"Sorry"

He blinked. "Why?"

"It's my fault you don't trust me. I shouldn't even expect it. I mean," she averted her eyes and let out a bitter laugh that transformed her again, from the seductive vampire to the human girl, "What kind of guy trusts a girl who pulls a hit-and-run on him?"

"What kind of vampire tells somebody she's sorry?" was the question that lay on his lips but he didn't speak it out because there was sincerity in her apology that made the comment irrelevant. Stupid even. He'd noticed the second she'd said her first words to him that she was made of the same stuff as his big brother. Different to the majority. Still full of emotion. Though, with the direction this conversation was taking again, he was beginning to think he might have that problem too.

So instead, he shook his head, "An idiot"

"Yeah, that the category I should be in," she mused, wandering over to the adjacent living room to skim along the shelves.

Political, crime and supernatural novels, non-fictional works from Dr. this and that, historical and archeological books that held beautiful pictures – taken by people that had previously been able to go out in the sun. Not a single photo album. Her father was a collector but he didn't keep the fragments of his own life. Not even a picture of her mother existed in this house.

Her focus slipped from the shelves that only held paper bound words and centered on the cupboard on the opposite wall, that she'd found out yesterday to be holding endless films that she hadn't expected her father to own. Most of them were untouched and still wrapped in their plastic covering. She bet they were mainly gifts from business partners or whatnot. Her father had only ever switched on the television to watch the news when she was a child, so that had left her free reign of it most of the time, and she doubted that had changed with his finding of immortality.

She could hear Frankie in the doorway of the room that was decorated only for the purpose of looking comfortable but really was the least homely place imaginable. Everything was too in place to be considered lived in. The porcelain ornaments on the coffee table were in a flawless formation, the spotless hardwood floor scratch free, even the novels sorted by author. Alison didn't like it. She still felt as though she was residing in a stranger's house, though her head told her it was her home for now and the future. A disgusting thought.

She wanted a distraction. A lightening of the mood.

She paused by the large double-window that was obscured from the exterior by the thick blinds and without seeking to see her captor's reaction, asked, "Do you feel like killing the rest of the day by watching a movie with the idiot?"

He didn't give an answer but a moment later the low leather sofa let out a sigh as weight settled on it and she had her confirmation. She sorted her way through the neatly organized rows of films, all the while with her back to him. She flicked her eyes across the spines, scanning the titles for something that had the least amount of cheesy lines, gut-filled violence or cliché storylines. Quite intent in her search, she wasn't prepared for the question he suddenly posed from across the room.

"_Do_ you still trust?"

She slowed, her finger coming to rest on a random cover. She looked at it blindly and chose her answer carefully. Suddenly she felt regret sneak into her for putting on that guilty 'Oh I shouldn't have treated you that way' story just now. He'd gotten them impression that she'd meant it in a deeper context than that, that she had actually given him trust before.

"Why wouldn't I?"

He huffed. "I don't. I don't get any and I don't need to give any either"

She dislodged the film from its position, took it over to the television set and slipped it out of its untouched cover. "I think it's probably the worst way to exist. Being suspicious of everybody all the time isn't really for me. I had to trust more than I was prepared to for the last couple of years and in the end, it kept me alive"

"As a human, that's a different perspective. You have to trust and rely on each other because you're too weak to make it alone. Now, you don't need anyone," he stated flatly, watching her like a hawk from where he sat. His gold eyes drew her in and made her look up when she could no longer pretend to be fiddling with the movie.

"That's not true"

"Really?" he leaned forward slowly, elbows propped up on his knees, "But you don't trust me. Or your father. Or the people living around here. Do you trust them as blindly as you did those humans? No. Not because you're not in a life-death situation, it's because there's no ability to trust left in you"

He had seen right through her.

She didn't open her mouth to answer and it was a silent victory for him. He'd cornered her in her own convictions and was turning her world upside down with those basic questions. He wanted to see just how much of a human she still was. How far she was going to take this façade of still being a naturally good creature because he knew she couldn't be. That part was inevitably locked away in the transition and gave way to selfish ruthlessness. She'd shown that she could go to lengths to get her selfish freedom and yet, she insisted on these emotional attachments.

"I don't trust you because you work for my father. It's got nothing to do with what I am now," she finally said, perching on the sofa diagonally from his.

He smirked but said nothing more, choosing to turn his eyes towards the film that had begun its story with a dramatic touch of well-orchestrated music. The legendary Hans Zimmer if he wasn't mistaken. Apparently he was still in business but his newest soundtracks had a different touch to them, a more macabre essence to his music. Nobody had gone untouched in personality by the change.

It was an older movie. The characters were obviously still human, with movements that were comparatively sluggish and expressions that gave more away than any vampire actor nowadays. He couldn't remember having gone to see it.

Alison had her eyes pinned on the screen too but he could tell that she wasn't listening to a single word being projected from the expensive speakers. His hypersensitive hearing heard only her regular breathing but he swore he could pick up the extensive whirring of her thoughts taking place in her head. Still mulling over his words. In the semi-darkness of the house her face was illuminated by the television and he found the shades of light and dark on her features oddly pretty. Once more, he had to shake the observation from his head before it settled.

He was relieved of this constant temptation to watch her from his convenient angle when his phone buzzed abruptly against his leg. He reached into his pocket, retrieved the flashing device, threw a look at the screen and sprang to alertness in an instant. The Chief Commander.

In a breath he was standing in the hallway, leaving the heated arguments of the actors on the other side of the wall, and pressed the mobile to his ear. "Dalton"

"There's been some news. I thought it would be interesting for you," the deep bass of the chief's voice sounded through the line and Frankie was amazed at how oppressive the guy managed to sound even over the phone. He wasn't one to be messed with and there was no doubt about Bromley's choice of his head of security.

"Listening, Sir," the young soldier replied, knowing he was either expecting an order or something that was so gravely pressing that it couldn't wait for another week or so.

"Edward Dalton has left the company"

Frankie had to restrain himself to not growl his annoyance into the receiver. What the hell? His brother? The man that searched so vigorously for an alternative blood source? Not a chance. Had Bromley kicked him out? Not likely, he was the head of the scientific research team after all. Why was he getting this absurd call anyway?

"I don't understand," he said, leaning his weight on one hand that he supported against the wall.

"He was seen by one of the men of the hunting teams, leaving in the company of two humans in broad daylight. There was quite a chase involved but they escaped our squad. We assume that it was intentional of him to accompany them, otherwise he would have turned them in as soon as the men arrived. Have you been in contact?"

Breathe in. Breathe out. Control the voice. "No"

"Does he have an understanding of where you are staying or who you are with?"

"No. I didn't inform him of this job"

"His house has been checked and his recent phone calls traced. There is no evidence of contact with humans but it seems obvious that this meeting was arranged. Any ideas?"

"There was…a visitor," Frankie remembered, his blood running cold with realization as the day flashed back into his head, "A woman. I didn't see or hear the conversation though. She may have been human"

"There is no interior surveillance in his residence I presume?"

"No"

A brief pause on the other end. Then, in a tone that tolerated no disobedience, the Commander spoke, "Stay alert, Dalton. Any glimpse of him I want reported right back. Understood?"

Edward was gone. Edward hadn't been abducted. Edward had run off with the humans. Ed, his big brother, had finally chosen a side. The traitor.

"Of course, Sir" Frankie said and every word was ice.

The sound of the phone sliding shut in his hand resounded in the silent corridor as he let his head drop against the smooth wallpaper. The heated plastic and metal radiated warmth into his fist that hung by his side and he wanted to crush it as an outlet for his anger. Pissed wasn't even close to describing what he felt for his sibling right now. And those humans that had lured him away. Edward and his soft spot for the stupid species. If he found them, he'd tear their throats out until they were a bleeding mess on the ground.

He noticed that the house was silent because the television had been muted and he knew that she had heard every word of the conversation. That just added to his fury. He hadn't even noticed the loud voices, fake gunshots and screeching tires suddenly disappearing from his ears.

He opened his eyes and turned them on her figure that hovered to his left with a look of absolute smugness lighting up her face. It took a lot not to hurt her then and there and the phone suffered as a result. The corners pressed into his flesh and he knew if he squeezed any harder it would be history but seeing this gave him the rest.

Uttering a string of curses, he turned on his heel and headed to the stairs, fully intent on grabbing himself a nice, big whisky from the boss' study, screw him noticing the absence of a bottle. Halfway there, he realized he couldn't do that because he was on a permanent duty and would definitely pay dearly for being intoxicated with a rebellious prisoner on his hands.

Hissing through his teeth in aggravation, he stopped in his tracks and took a deep breath. It didn't calm him down a bit. The need to kill or tear something apart was itching at him and the only living outlet close to him was his prisoner. She still wore that smile and it was the best recipe for egging him take that leap over the edge and forcefully wipe it off her face. She didn't see the danger she was placing herself in. She didn't see where he was headed.

Edward, you fucking idiot.


	10. Clash

_Bromley Mansion, Ground Floor, Hallway_

Alison had seen him pissed. She'd seen him resort to moderate force and violence to restrain her. She'd also seen the compassionate side of him, if only in flashes every now and again. She wasn't exactly prepared for this reaction though. She hadn't been able to help her inner triumph at the news of his brother's conformation to the human resistance. She couldn't be sure it was truly like that and a miniature part of her feared it was all simply a set-up, a plan to seek out and drive the last of those that had made it through alive until now, into the deadly trap.

She didn't know Edward Dalton as a person and she couldn't guarantee herself that he was not a spy. There were plenty of fake sympathizers out there who didn't mean one word they babbled about but more and more humans fell for their extended offers of shelter and safety out of sheer desperation.

However, the aggression in the soldier's movements as he paused on the opposite side of the hallway could not be overseen. The information had triggered something inside him. Whether shame humiliation, abandonment or worry, whatever it truly was, it emerged out of his vampire body as trembling fury that possessed his entire form. She could actually see the tremors run across his skin.

She half-wished that she was the reason behind this reaction; that she could actually cause this man to revert to his darker, primal version due to anger she evoked in him. That she held some shred of power over him. Reality was that this dangerous state of mind was surely a result of his brother's flight and their sibling connection. She didn't know much about him as of yet but Frankie appeared to her a loyal soul, unfortunately loyal to her father, and therefore it made absolute sense for him to be beyond furious at his brother's 'betrayal'.

Nonetheless, the smug smile stayed on her face and hard as she might have tried, she couldn't have wiped it away even if she wanted to. There was just too much irony in the situation. The perfect soldier's closest relative detaching himself and joining the other side. What a classic. Almost the same kind of scandal that she'd bestowed upon her father with her resistance when she'd still been human.

Her focus slipped back to Frankie though when he uttered a snarl that would have had her shaking in her clothes had the situation been different. Had she still been sitting in that cell right now, human and very much vulnerable, she would have shrunken away from this person involuntarily. Now, she simply watched in fascinating as he instinctively lowered his upper body and jutted out his head that had changed into a grimace of death. The canines were extended past their normal length.

There was no reflex to recoil and flee anymore. She stayed right where she stood, the smirk melting away as her teeth lengthened instinctively. She was an equal now. Maybe not in size and strength to a man but she was just as undead as him and she refused to be intimidated anymore. If he wanted to take out his anger on her, and from the look of things he probably would any second now, he should go ahead, but expect to receive back as good as he gave.

Their eyes were locked and Alison observed him intently. She wasn't going to make the first move but if he charged now, she wanted to be able to counter. Before, she preferred being armed since her hand-to-hand combat was barely adequate. Things had changed though. She was equipped with natural weapons of the best sort now and instincts that guided her reactions when experience failed. The issue of blood thirst aside, this new form enabled her to protect herself twice as well as before. She felt the complete control she possessed as adrenalin pulsed along her muscles.

Frankie was facing her straight on now. Anger was written all over his features but she found only glee in the fact that he was about to explode on her. Some part of her wanted this fight that had long been building within her, for various reasons. She'd been repressed and commandeered around for too long; all this contained frustration needed an outlet. If the soldier was willing to give that to her, he was only too welcome. She hissed, egging him on. "What? Not pleased to realize that not even your brother wants to be on your side?"

She hit a nerve there. His last threads of restraint visibly snapped away and then he sprung forward, clashing with her immediately. Her head was thrown back against the wall with the impact but the dizziness lasted barely a breath before she surged right back, using her entire weight to push him backwards, into the opposite wall. It was a mass of snarls, shouts and shaking walls as the two struggled for the upper hand in a fight that both of them knew would lead nowhere but were not in the least prepared to break off. Frankie wrestled his arm out of her grip and the free hand enclosed her throat as she twisted around to strike again. She choked, stumbled backwards with the momentum and they smashed straight through the glass table that stood at the mouth of the corridor. Shards flew and were crushed as the bodies smothered them in their grapple.

This wasn't a comparatively basic exchange of blows that a fighting human couple would tend to deliver in an argument. No slapping or kicking, no resorting to screaming out lungs with a barrage of brutal words and insults that defied all logic. These were two riled up vampires who feared neither the consequences of what would happen if they tore each other to pieces but battled just to prove an undefined point to the other. This outcome wouldn't remain a couple of bruises and emotional scarring; this would go down to flesh, starting from the second that glass scraped against Alison's skin and drew first blood.

The brunette lurched forward, head butting the soldier in a wild attempt to break free of his weight on her. Blood ran hot across his lips as it dripped from his nose and he snarled in her face, tightening his fingers in retaliation. It hurt. Her eyes were narrow, golden slits of deadly intent even though the stabbing pain of a constricted throat was clawing at her. Her knees came up; one catching him in the gut as he moved to block it and the hand finally fell away from her. She reared up, managing to catch a hold of the hair in the nape of his neck with one hand. She jerked it back, ignoring the way he delivered a blow to her ribcage as she did so, then dug her fangs into his jugular with all the vigor she had in her.

The resounding scream rang in her ears and the indefinable taste penetrated her head. She'd experienced this before but reliving the moment of vampire blood flowing into her while she wasn't headed for suicide was different. It was an unexplainable mixture of pleasure at delivering pain, at bathing in somebody else's power, and disgust at the alien sensation, at turning on the same species. She didn't swallow the liquid life that coated her tongue but bit deeper, deeper until her own pain overshadowed the act. She couldn't tell if it was weapon or his hand that was tearing into her ribs but she didn't succeed in withstanding the pain and drew away. She hid her cry of anguish as she coughed out his blood, spitting it on the littered carpet while she fell back.

Through blurry eyes she saw Frankie pull back too, hand immediately covering the torn throat that was already undergoing intensive healing. She touched a hand to her own torso, feeling the wound ignite under her fingertips. The flesh was bleeding profusely. Miraculously, it did nothing to dampen her heated temper though. As soon as she could stand without cringing over, she advanced again. His throat still gleamed wetly, the tender skin inflamed but no longer pouring as much blood. He uttered a deep growl as she approached, side-stepping the mess on the ground to avoid slipping. Alison followed every movement with her gaze, one hand on the tapestry to keep her balance but not letting her guard down.

He insisted on being on the offense, not giving her a second to dive into the fray properly. The moment her right knee gave out a fraction as pain slashed through her side again, he was on the move, striking the leg with an accurate kick. She went down on all fours, agony lancing not only through her chest but the entire right side of her body. Her nerves seemed to go from numb to a sequence of fireworks setting her insides aflame. Her instinct to lash out at the aggressor peaked. Too bad for him that she knew about his weakest area.

With effort, she rose up on her knees again, reaching out simultaneously to grasp hold of the vampire's previously injured arm. Though the metal of the cuffs obstructed her, her nails dug right through the jacket into the still sensitive flesh beneath and she jerked, feeling the material scrape roughly against the limb. He was good at keeping a poker face but at _that_ his eyes clearly watered with pain and his mouth tightened to the point where they turned white. He jerked backwards immediately but she refused to let up, instead letting herself be dragged to her feet as he tried to gain distance.

They were face to face again and although his one arm was caught in her vice grip, he was the one that twisted it despite the pain to pin her against the wall. Alison gritted her teeth at the impact, feeling it vibrate up her spine. She felt the stinging need to scratch at those hawk eyes, set her own violent mark on his skin so he would finally release the restraint over her. She wanted free use of her arms to tear through him just as she had tried with her teeth. She couldn't explain why these thoughts were rising inside her. It must have been the taste of him in her mouth. Knowing she had been able to go that far. Digging her fangs into the most exposed area. These sick desires didn't even faze her now as they passed through her head.

Before she got to transform them into reality though, she was thrown to the side with the force of the blow that thundered against her face. She could have sworn she felt her cheekbone crack and the wetness that immediately shot into her eyes threatened to spill over the edges. Then came the unforgiving fingers that dug into the smarting flesh and turned her face back towards him. She squinted against the sensation. Gold was all she could see and it took her while before she realized that it must be his eyes boring into hers. His heated breath hit her and even as her dazed brain registered that he was much too close, that her control was slipping on the situation, twin pains erupted on her throat.

Her nails must have penetrated his skin then. The agony that tore her apart had her muscles clenching and the resulting flinch from him did nothing to unhook her fingers. His skin was burning up under her touch and it seemed that all her senses grew even sharper as he violated her as she had. Every trickle of blood leaving her body, every millimeter that his fangs ripped into further, every movement of his mouth against her skin. They were both receiving and giving injury, waiting for the other to cave in. Somehow, rationally, deep in her core, she knew it would be her. She hadn't been trained to handle this sort of assault as he had. Now it was her scream that cut through the empty rooms.

It didn't stop when he removed his head from the neck wound. The pain lasted, radiated out from the injury and cut through her ability to conjure up a decent strategy to win this fight. The smell of blood, the poisonous kind, infiltrated her nose and she gagged, just as he did, at the taste it left behind on the roof of her mouth. Not disgusting, just completely _wrong_. Vampire blood. It wasn't designed to be consumed by them.

In desperate anger, she removed her grip from his arm and raised her cuffed fists to ram them into his chest, thumping them against the area where his heart lay. Fruitlessly attempting to cause him harm as he had but her arms weren't up for the task anymore. He'd taken more from her than she from him. Alison tried to swallow, wincing at the ache that the action caused. Her eyes were open but so unfocused she failed to see Frankie spit out what he had almost swallowed, use his healthy arm to wipe the worst away from his mouth and set his attention back on her. She blinked rapidly, hoping to bring at least his face back into detail. She feared this blindness, this vulnerability.

Hands, burning hands, encircled her face again. Every single finger that splayed over her bloody skin held the power to crush her skull further if they desired. She lurched forward, intent on evading his grip but he slammed her back, none to gently. She wrenched her head to the side, gasping at the pressure this exerted on the injured cheekbone, and he still didn't remove them. His voice, rougher than usual and furiously low, despite his heavy breathing, murmured to her, "Want more?"

Despite her raspy, blood-clogged voice, her light answer was an open opposition to his threat, "What? You haven't had enough fun yet?"

He'd better take the hint that she wasn't backing down, no matter how far her broke her.

Her sight had finally cleared so she could see the dark red stains on his clothes, across his pale face, his throat. Grim satisfaction arose at the view. She could only imagine what she must look like. He appeared slightly light-headed, with the fraction of a smile on his face, although his hold on her didn't waver and she felt the tension in the muscles that pinned her to the vertical barrier.

He laughed at her retort but it died in his throat as a bout of coughing overtook him and more blood leaked from his lips. She looked at him, took in the whole picture since they clashed needlessly. The rush was ebbing away as they leaned there, intimately close like secret friends but their incentives without a shred of good intention. Logically, they were in a position that didn't suggest surrender. They were more or less taking a break from the violence and throwing word games at another, probing another to see who would back down. She knew she was drained and though the holes in her neck weren't wide, there was still blood running down her collarbone in little streams. She could only hope that his condition was the same.

It seemed that when he fought, he finally lost all etiquette concerning personal space. She couldn't recall him keeping such little distance to her before, not even when he had restrained and carried her back home. She found herself not minding this at all. It didn't appear important that they had just beaten another up or ripped another's throat open. She wasn't afraid or resentful. Her want for blood was still there but changing into something else…something more potent. She remained immobile where she was and just soaked in the heat from his body. Suddenly the ache of her body, the lightly thudding pain that his fingers caused on her bruising cheek, everything simply fit into the picture.

Frankie caught her gaze. Alison didn't look away as she raised her chin and challenged, "Are you going to break my jaw too?"

Lips curved upwards into a bloody smile.

"Convince me not to" he breathed back.

She could have played the not-man-enough-to-have-manners-around-a-girl card but after this little episode here that would be silly. It was follow the order he gave or more hurt. She had no doubt that once he had the upper hand again, she would come to experience some of the fancy torture tricks he probably had in store. Thoughts of what her father would think about this didn't even occur to her.

She contemplated her options, running out of reasonable ones fast. Unconsciously, her tongue ran over her lower lip, tasting bitter blood that must have been his. Raising her lids, she was confronted with those golden eyes, exploring hers whenever she dared to clash with them. She could see every tine line and shade in his iris. His pupils resembled black holes, which grew and grew until they filled her vision. Of course it meant he was filling any space possibly left between them. This time round, she was on the receiving end with no gap to squirm through and escape. She instinctively braced herself.

The heated skin of their lips met and what followed couldn't be seen as anything else but a pleasurable mess. His blood on her mouth, her own all over her body and vice versa. Her fractured ribs protested as his hands found their way over them down to her hips and pressed her deeper into the wall. Her own, limited as they were kept, were operating on their own accord, tearing away the buttons of his jacket to gain access to the layers below. Where the line between bloodlust and pure, physical lust had been overstepped, she didn't know, but there wasn't much difference when it came to the basics. They hadn't morphed into anything else, still acted like two wild beasts that grappled for dominance. They had just taken it to another level.

If there was air to inhale around them, Alison couldn't spare it a moment. They were breathing as one, lips fused and tongues tangling in their haste. If she had been an observer, somebody uninvolved, she may have found the scene appalling, disturbing and brutal in the way that the two of them seemed to be ravaging rather than donating embraces. Worse even than the previous session that included tearing into another's flesh like rabid dogs. Perhaps she should be repulsed at the true vampire she embodied now because there was no mistaking the animalistic clawing of her fingers in his clothing or the hiss of pleasure as he pulled them away to pin them above her head. This was no more self-defense.

Frankie only dropped his hold once to shed his jacket but didn't quit kissing her. The first opportunity for her to break it off while he had his attention split. She didn't. Her hands stayed right on the wall and she didn't disrupt the contact. If anything, her eagerness increased as his body nestled back against hers. Any disgust, any prejudices and better judgment evaporated in the heat of the moment. One hand was tracing down her raised arms, the other crawling through the space between her sweater and stomach. Electric shocks seemed to pump through her as skin met skin under the clothing and mingled into a state of bliss with the pain that pulsed along the right of her chest.

She couldn't stand keeping still while he got to touch her all he wanted. She tugged her arms out of his grip, pulling away from those demanding lips for a second to loop them around his head and tug at the obstructing material that still covered his upper body. He allowed her to pull off the thin shirt before claiming her mouth again. She made herself a picture of his contours blindly by puzzling the glimpses she seen together in her memory, feeling her way up his tensed abdomen to the lightly defined stomach until she reached the neck. Her frustration at being bound returned full tilt as she found herself having to hesitate again because the metal dug into her wrists and this translated into her movements. She yearned for control. More than that, for freedom of her body.

"Take them off"

He paused in his caresses, she felt him grin against her as he followed suit and his touch slid down to her jeans. She groaned with the effort of pulling his head away to seek out his eyes. He didn't understand and she wanted to make him obey her. Just once.

"No. These," she held the metal contraption in front of his face. His fingers encircled her arms like he needed to hold on to resist dragging her clothes off immediately. His eyes slid from her face to the cuffs and gradually back. The anticipated unspoken answer hung in the air, suffocating her. He would refuse. A moment ago he would have thrown her to floor for even communicating the thought out loud. This was unstable ground she was treading on. Alison could see it coming like a tidal wave crashing over her. He didn't speak for an age.

Without warning, he released her and crouched, unzipping an inside compartment of the army jacket on the ground. She didn't breathe in her wonder. He didn't drop his gaze from her as he twisted the key in the tiny lock. Metal ground against metal with a sharp click that announced her release. Even though her mind was still whirling, she comprehended the meaning of this like he did.

He was placing trust in her.

He was following a direct demand of hers that involved trusting her to stay put. The realization of that bore the need to laugh at the irony of it all. This gesture coming from the man that had told her not too long ago that he would never ever trust. Especially not a person who was placed under his supervision as a prisoner. She raised them in front of her face, disbelieving that she was seriously unbound after five long days of constant restriction. He waited unexpectedly patient, gauging her next move in case he'd made the wrong choice.

Alison stepped forward, lightly pushing against his chest with her flat palms. He didn't budge from where he stood, right in the middle of the hallway, so she froze opposite him. Her hands travelled over his bare upper body, enjoying the capacity of movement she had now. They eventually came to rest behind his head, linked closely at the nape of his neck and she noticed his had eyes fallen shut with the sensation. The mood had shifted again and the previous feral urgency had left their bodies. Delicate desire had replaced it, mingled with the need to explore. That was exactly what she did. Her hands stopped their journey and she let her lips convey the rest of her intentions, trailing up his chest.

Judging from the shiver that ran through his body beneath her mouth, she wasn't doing too badly in her antics. She paused when she reached the top, hovering just inches away from the lips she'd experienced in multiple ways in just the last twenty minutes. Hell, what a day this was turning out to be. And who knew how it was going to end? If the strong hands running over her lower back and dropping further were any indication, it wouldn't be the worst day of her afterlife.

She sucked in a breath of air, burying her pride deep under her next words. "Thank you. Frankie"

A reply seemed halfway out of him when he changed his mind and only graced her with a fleeting almost-there smile. Fingers tangled in her chestnut strands and pulled her back to what they had disrupted. She didn't mind. There would be other opportunities to talk, to think. By the time her clothes joined his on the carpet, they were already past the need for words.


	11. Aftermath

_Bromley Mansion, Ground Floor, Kitchen_

She sat there, slouched in her chair as though the world had decided to stretch itself out over her shoulders. Her head was bowed, her gaze glued to the marble countertop. Water ran down her spine in trickles as drops gathered in the tips of her hair and spilled over her back. Bruises littered the skin on her upper body, visible where her towel did not cover her. The legs she'd propped up on the opposite chair were less adorned with dark blotches than by inflamed scratches that marked her thighs.

Her hand tangled in her hair, bunching it together in her fist and watching as residue water from her shower soaked the skin and dripped onto the kitchen floor. She didn't care. She felt empty. Full as a black hole and empty as a vacuum. She lowered her gaze, fanned out from the growing puddle to the mess of glass that coated the hallway and part of the kitchen tiles. Dispassionately, she stared at the pieces.

Sober, compared to the earlier frenzy, she still didn't have any explanation for what had transpired. Her head was clear and now all she felt was numb pain that still seared through her wounds. Strangely enough, emotion seemed to be sidestepping her ever since the rush of lust and fighting instinct had left her. It didn't make sense. At this sort of action, she'd expected emotional highs or, more likely, lows to follow, but nothing of the sort had hit her so far. Barely an hour ago, she'd finally awoken from the craze that had started a chain of events she wasn't quite sure what to make of yet.

Not that it had been unpleasant finding herself on the sheepskin carpet of the mansion's living room. She'd let the last waves of satisfaction roll off her, listening to their combined heavy breathing as their bodies recovered. She couldn't recall how long it had been since he'd caused that wreckage in the hallway nor how and when they had taken the party to this room. It had been disconcerting to feel his naked body on the ground next to hers, no longer touching or attacking, because she found she couldn't read his intentions. They had lain still like two wary animals, monitoring another as they caught their breath. She'd wondered absently whether all his sexual experiences occurred in this way.

Blood stained that carpet now as their injuries pressed against the material. The silence had grown thicker the longer they lay side by side. She had turned her head after a good ten minutes and met his bright eyes in the dimness. She had felt nothing as they shared a long look that spoke of nothing and everything. He had been as blank to her as he had been before their heated encounter. Nobody had spoken and eventually, he raised himself onto his feet. She'd watched his backside vanish into the corridor, the muffled noises of him gathering his clothes.

She had waited for the regret to come and pin her to the floor with its crushing weight. Or shame to fill her. Her anger had already been used up so she couldn't expect any more of that. As for the joy, there sure was a certain satisfaction in what she had done. It was a small victory. After all, she had gained the freedom of her hands. Maybe not for long but that didn't matter. She'd actually succeeded in manipulating him far enough into removing those cuffs. He was becoming lenient and she knew it.

She'd lain on the ground for a while until she noticed the light subtly changing and a rumble of motors announcing the dawn of a new day. The shutters were closing down again. The invisible cage had been resurrected around her. There would be no crazy escape stunts for the next twelve hours at least. The sun was too high a risk. Not that she planned to get up to any mischief today because after this, she needed to recover.

She'd sat up and inspected the damage that had been caused to her body. With the attention she had focused on it, the blood seemed to come rushing back to the wounds and they'd bled onto the carpet as she moved. She'd held her breath as she eased off the ground to hold in the wince that accompanied the movement. Without seeing everything, she had known that she was a mess. This was the point in time when physical reflections would have been convenient. She had stood, stretched out her aching limbs and had followed the soldier's example by picking her clothing off the floor.

She didn't find herself affected by the chaos around. Strange as it was, she hadn't felt particularly different after the sex either. It had been quite a new experience for her, a mixture of rough, primitive desire and hesitant, foreign pleasure. Reflecting now though, it might as well have been the two of them having a little tea party. It wasn't important.

She had realized then that this episode, this encounter, it had just been an outlet for her anger. This empty state of mind had perturbed her the more she gave thought to it. That there was no meaning to anything she did anymore. Did not even the shared physical aspects of existence hold significance when you were undead?

She'd retreated under the shower, not knowing or particularly caring where her guard dog had gone. The blood staining the tiles was washing away but the soreness remained. She had not been able to tell yet whether she liked the blue bruises like ink spills over her skin or whether she hated them because of their origin. She had felt marked and ironically, more possessed and controlled than when she'd sported those handcuffs.

Now, here she was, half-dried off and with no solutions to a situation she was still wrapped up in. So, she'd been detained, tied and repressed for more than a week. She'd just practiced extreme violence followed by extreme sexual activity with a man whom she not only disliked on principle but also because he generally contradicted most of what she said. To top it all off, she didn't even have a great escape plan now that she had a tad more freedom than a couple of hours ago.

She almost flinched when the sound of somebody else's footfalls reached her ears but denied her body the permission to show any change. She didn't speak as Frankie passed her, moved to the fridge and poured out their daily doses. They were running quite low on their stocks, she observed as the blood licked down the side of its container into her glass. That meant her father or some form of a henchman would soon make an appearance to restock their supply. At least she assumed so.

He set down the drink in front of her and she caught his eyes as he did. Time, not that there was much significance to it nowadays anymore, stopped in the space their gazes dominated. She raised an eyebrow, not cheekily or questioning, but expectant. She'd be damned if there wasn't anything to say about this episode. She knew it was a very human thing to speak about these things, to establish some sort of association with these events but she didn't care if he saw it like that. She'd bottled up enough of her opinions before, she needed clarity and she wanted it now.

"So what's happening in there right now?" she asked as casually as possible, gesturing towards his head, "Tell me. I can't read minds and its bad enough having to interpret whatever you decide to say."

His face didn't so much as twitch and regarded her with complete blankness. She inwardly groaned. So he was going to do this the hard way. I-will-just-pretend-it-didn't-happen-and-play-dumb-to-make-you-regret-ever-bringing-this-up. She shook her head indignantly and turned away from him, slumping back into her chair.

"Unbelievable" she murmured.

Silence ensued after her statement in which Alison was deliciously tempted to hit him again or just walk out. Somehow, he succeeded in making her angry with herself without even opening his mouth. Or, in this case, because he didn't open his mouth. Apparently, it was all nicely and simply laid out. Whatever happened would remain under lockdown until he saw fit to bring it up. She ground her teeth in frustration. So here was another prime example of him, once more, pulling the strings and making decisions even though she was technically no longer the puppet in chains.

"You know, bizarrely enough, I was under the illusion that you'd actually be a fraction more bearable to be around after we fight it out," she stated aloud, fingers tapping against the side of her chair, "And again you've proved me wrong"

She stood up with her glass, manoeuvring her body around his immobile figure to walk past. She sucked in her lip between her teeth for a second still feeling the residue taste of their blood on it even though she'd thoroughly removed those marks in the shower. She paused next to the pile of debris that had once been a table. Then she tilted her head around to toss him an almost sincere apologetic smile. "It was my mistake. I mistook you for something else but you're still an asshole"

There was no reaction from behind her but she didn't care to check whether he was affected. It didn't occur to her that she may be overreacting or interpreting completely unrelated things into his silence. Maybe she was being judgemental and failing to be optimistic about what she'd gained. A new measure of freedom, a good couple of hours of entertainment, an outlet for her suppressed fury and an experience that measured up to none she'd had in the past.

She slammed her bedroom door and leaned against it, hungrily letting the drink flow down her throat as she emptied her glass. She refused to show it in front of him but this replenishment had been necessary. She could literally feel herself rejuvenate.

Her sore throat immediately mellowed out and the ribs stopped aching after a couple of minutes. With newfound energy, she wrapped herself in a comfortable jumper and track pants and settled on the bed. She let her hands tangle in the iron wrought bars of the headboard and relaxed against it, stretching out the muscles in her shoulders. Alone again, she grew pensive as one only could when there was literally no distraction available but the company of a man she couldn't even define her sentiments towards.

In all seriousness, she knew he wasn't that much of an asshole. He'd proven he was able to care, or at least put on a marginally convincing act of caring. He had not treated her with explicit brutality up until today and even that had been quite a fair give-and-take battle that was also her fault. She just wouldn't bring herself to admit that she was acting up solely due to the fact that he didn't seem at all affected. Even worse, there was a margin of gratitude there too. She was thankful for the removal of those shackles and the bonds of trust that replaced them.

She wanted to hate him as equally badly as she wanted to relive the sensation he'd stirred inside her. She wanted his words again, no matter how insulting, how comforting or plain meaningless. Just to hear the remainder of his humanity seep through so she could assure herself he was real and not a figment of this cruel reality she kept falling back into.

That honest side of him, the one that kind of loved his brother and experienced its own kinds of pain and joy that he pocketed away with care, that was the one she wanted to see now. The one that felt deeply enough to empathize with her. The one that had prompted him to remove her handcuffs and take a risk with her.

Here she was, getting sentimental and having inner monologues again. Why had nobody distributed a manual on how to survive life as a vampire?

She wasn't a teenager any more, she'd passed puberty a decent while back and now this horrible tendency to become self-conscious and doubtful about her actions was returning. Enough was really enough. This must be the, what, fifth time she'd fallen into one of these phases. She didn't know if that was the norm for recently changed vampires in their first weeks but it wasn't pleasant.

Her body shrunk into a ball as she burrowed into the bedcovers and dug her hands into the her jumper. She wanted to keep curling into herself, twisted so tightly that she wouldn't come undone anymore and the world wouldn't be able to penetrate that invisible dome around her. No company, just her floating. It was with that thought that she shut out the world and eventually drifted into slumber.

The sound of a door opening downstairs broke the trance that Frankie had been caught in for the last two hours, sitting on the ground opposite a certain someone's room, twisting the handcuffs around and around in his hands.

He didn't even know why he had been guarding the closed door. He'd heard her falling asleep long ago and her faint breathing on the other side was enough to inform him that she wasn't doing anything stupid. He'd imagined her lying under the covers, thinking of him, dreaming of him and cursing him a million times over, for whatever reason she saw fit this time. Most likely plotting to murder him for his lack of appreciation for their heated interaction downstairs.

It wasn't that he didn't, it had definitely been the most pleasurable experience he'd had in the last couple of months. Being a soldier was a full-time occupation and sex was a rarity nowadays with everything going on. But that was exactly the issue here. If he had let this get to his head, feelings would soon follow. He couldn't allow that. There was already compassion for her and he was bending to his whims too frequently now whenever it concerned Alison. Emotional attachment was right around the corner and he didn't want it. He couldn't want it because it would cost him everything.

Just the fact that he was working himself into frenzy over this proved that his usually perfect detachment was fraying and tearing at the seams. The narrow line that separated stupidity and risky thrill was wavering in front of his eyes. He'd probably already crossed it.

So he was, in a sense, glad that the noise of reality brought him back to attention. Sometimes inner contemplations were actually more lethal and any physical torture. He was being a nuisance to himself and impeding his ability to make precise decisions about the job at hand.

He rose, stood at the staircase in an instant, ears sharpened and scanning for any sounds. There was a shuffling, the noise of glass fragments being compressed underneath the weight of a foot and the disapproving click of a tongue. Frankie relaxed, calming the initial instincts to attack the intruder. It was the housekeeper who had been scheduled to come days ago.

She had picked up his presence too. Her voice called up, "Mr. Bromley?"

"No," he replied as he quickly descended the steps, "Frankie Dalton"

He extended his hand to the woman who was standing in the entrance hall, hands on hips, in a perfectly boring grey suit that was ironed into exact folds, which however did nothing to give the pudgy woman a more professional appearance.

She accepted the hand, blinking her heavily made-up eyes at him a few times in which she took in his entire physique, the soldier's uniform and the light bruising still marking his face and neck. Whatever opinion she formed in that split second, she kept it under supremely tight control and opted to accept his handshake in response.

"Therese Fletcher," she introduced herself briskly.

He was absolutely not in the mood for any chitchat at this point in time so he simply mirrored her actions, pulled his hand from her grip and cut straight to the chase. "You are the one Mr. Bromley hired to take care of the house every now and again?"

She nodded assertively.

"Usually twice a week. Though recently I have taken up a second job so I've started coming by less often. He does not stay home much, Sir, and assured me that would be fine," those hands of hers went onto the hips again as she leaned forward, as though assessing his legitimacy as an authority figure, "Though he failed to mention he had a guest coming."

"Two. His daughter is staying here as well," he explained shortly. The woman gave a nod of acknowledgement and although she chose not to comment her eyes briefly flitted to the remnants of the glass table on the ground. It didn't escape Frankie's notice and he made a point of emphasizing his next words, "Perhaps I should let you get to work then. Since you are limited on time"

"Yes, it's quite awful having to work during the light hours. Getting up this early really doesn't work that well anymore, now that blood rations are falling, the coffee just doesn't taste the same anymore. Doesn't do much to keep this body awake and running for 18-hour-days," she grumbled, hands patting against her jacket as she gestured her displeasure. Frankie was already past paying attention to her. This was exactly what he hadn't wanted to engage in.

"I've got my own work to complete Mrs. Fletcher," he stated coolly.

She fell silent, nodded and moved towards the kitchen. Frankie sighed inwardly. This was really not the distraction he was searching for. She'd just reminded him that the situation he had escaped from temporarily out there, the increasing starvation around the cities, the tough life if you weren't a permanent, salary-receiving employee at Bromley Marks.

On his way back to the staircase, his gaze grazed over the phone hovering harmlessly on a stand beside the main door. He halted, contemplated for a long moment, then went over and dialled. It was an impulsive call but he felt he should try. The number had long been etched into his brain as the first one he'd memorized after the change. It had been his secret refuge for a while, a place where he felt more at home every time he visited although nothing really connected him to it. Nothing but a single person that still held some meaning to Frankie.

It rang. Once. Twice. Five times. Ten times. Then the voice followed. "You've reached Edward Dalton's home. Unfortunately, I am not here at the moment. You can leave behind a message and I will make sure I get back to you".

Beep. Silence. No response.

Frankie tried once more with the same result. He hung up. The still humanly cheerful voice of his brother reminded him that there was more to worry about than simply his feelings towards his boss' daughter. Though quite a stubborn, beautiful, courageous, damn talented daughter…

Edward was his concern, right here right now. He should be focusing on him. Frankie settled on an armchair next to the phone, running his hands across his face. He still hadn't found an answer as to why Ed would leave. The only logical explanation was a kidnap. To think that if he had gone voluntarily…if he did turn out a human supporter he'd be killed by any vampire out there.

Frankie would never admit it to anybody, even if he was tortured or maimed, but above all he feared for his brother's life. He couldn't explain why precisely, since Ed was a reminder of his previous life, his previous failures and his previous neglect but he was also his brother, his support, and a person who cared about him. That already was too uncommon in his life. Family had lost significance as he had grown up and even more so as he had changed and become immortal but he couldn't let go of that connection with his brother. He even remembered Ed's human birthday and that was something barely anyone celebrated anymore.

He was concerned for his brother's well being but behind that was the selfish, irrational fear of losing Ed. Who would he have left in his life? His fellow soldiers? Not like they gave a shit about another anyway. The guy living across from his apartment whose ex occasionally came to Frankie's door? He doubted that he even knew of his existance. Friends? Any of them he'd had as a human were long gone. Now there was only Alison. When weighing out the pros and cons that he presented to her, she'd have greater benefit of him dead so her chances of escape rose.

The vacuum cleaner roared into action in the living room and Frankie let the noise drown out his thoughts. They were really troublesome to deal with when they were laced with concern. Worse even, they stemmed from the knowledge that Edward was already soft heartened enough and under no circumstances adequately prepared to fight for his life.

Frankie looked at the phone, blaming it for resting in such a spot of plain sight. The call had made his situation worse. So what if he had blocked it out during the night with his flying rage and Alison providing a distraction, it had come back around to haunt him now. That itch was in his fingers again, the itch to take action. He suddenly felt useless here, his talents wasted on babysitting a young vampire.

The itch spread, running into his arms and filling his body until he was pacing around the entrance hall in agitation. The cleaning process had reached his peripheral vision and the grinding noises that erupted as Mrs. Fletcher let it suck up the powdered glass sent his ears cringing. He returned upstairs, which slightly dampened the annoying sounds and hovered in front of Alison's door once more. The handcuffs had not moved from the ground and the door was still firmly closed but the soft, levelled breathing had changed. She wasn't asleep any more.

He retrieved the binding tool from the floor, fingering the cold metal with his equally cold hands. Should he? Just to be on the safe side? It had been naive to remove them in first place. It wasn't like she deserved any trust from him.

She opened up at that moment, fixed him with her gaze. Her eyes rested on the object in his hands but she didn't flinch back or bestow him with those glares she was so adept with. She was wary but not caught off guard. She just leaned on the doorframe, arms crossing in front of her chest. She was going to bring up the previous events in a minute, he could see it in the way her posture had shifted into defensive.

She indicated the floor below and with a gesture silently asking, "Who is that?"

The answer was halfway out of his mouth when a new pair of footsteps was heard along with the distant buzzing of the garage door closing. Then the housekeeper's voice rang out loud and clear as the vacuum cleaner was shut off. "Mr. Bromley, welcome home Sir"

This was a seriously twisted joke. That his boss would come today of all days, in the middle of daytime, just after this fiasco.

Frankie actually wanted to sink into the floor and die for real. Post-death really hated him sometimes.


	12. Father

_Bromley Mansion, First Floor, Hallway_

Alison's eyes darted aside, hovering near the staircase. She glanced back at Frankie who seemed to have turned into a statue at hearing the voice downstairs. Then she made to turn on her heel and slam the door.

There was no chance that she'd give her father the satisfaction of seeing her face. She'd be too inclined to rip his head off. After all these days, her pent-up frustration had accumulated to a point where she wasn't even sure she wanted to keep it in check. The incident with Frankie had already emphasized just how unstable she was.

She was stopped midway by Frankie's hand that gripped her wrist. She almost twisted it out of its socket, as she was pulled back over the threshold. Snarling under her breath, she fixed stormy eyes on him, all but challenging him to release her.

In silence, he raised the previously discarded handcuffs to her eyelevel. His head tilted to the side just fractionally but the message was obvious enough. She didn't say anything but her posture relaxed in his grasp as sudden wariness crawled into her bones. As much as she would love to provoke him here, now, in front of her father, she wouldn't risk her newfound freedom.

He didn't ridicule her though, only tucked the gadget away and spoke, in a voice low enough to pass only between them, "You stay untied but you'll behave. Don't pull any stupid manoeuvres. Do you understand?"

He was in soldier-mode now. She could see that in his use of clipped, authoritative sentences that flowed out of his mouth in the way he'd probably had them drilled in.

She nodded dumbly. It's not like she had a variety of options to choose from. What else was there to say?

His eyes darted to the ground floor, then back to her face. It almost appeared as though he needed encouragement or, perhaps, her consent to face the man. She surprised herself by reaching forward to gently uncurl his fingers from around her wrist and giving his palm a subtle squeeze as they dropped away.

Their eyes clashed for a second. She could see in his look, just in that short moment, that he wanted to speak about everything that had happened. He wanted to explain as much as he wanted to know. About her, about her reasons, about the meaning of it all.

He swallowed visibly, then pulled himself together and gestured for her to take the lead. She complied. After all, it was inevitable that her father should demand to see her and if Frankie got into trouble, that could only mean she would suffer as a result too. At least that was what she told herself. Never would she admit that maybe there was a tiny soft spot inside her for him. This boy turned man, who both rejected and embraced his humanity, whom she found repulsive and fascinating alternatively and whose presence suddenly was her only form of support.

The stairs felt like an open mouth that swallowed her up and pushed her into the lair of the dragon. Frankie followed three steps behind her and she caught herself moving in sync with his footsteps as though together, they would intimidate Charles Bromley. Wishful thinking.

She spotted him immediately, hovering in the dining room on their left. The closer she got, the more reluctant her body became. She could feel herself slowing down as she caught sight of the man. The slosh of liquid against crystal signified that he was holding a drink.

The overhead light flicked on and they were bathed in white light that had father and daughter sizing another up across the room. The tension filled the space to the brim. The vibes felt were anything but pleasant. Alison would have sworn that when her father eventually looked away, it was not out of interest for his glass of bourbon. She felt smug that this technique of staring others down seemed to improve the more she put it to use.

Charles Bromley made the first move after it had sunk in that she would not exchange words with him.

"Ali, sweetheart, you look much better," he noted, coming closer to the pair.

The urge to suffocate him with his tie snuck into her fingers and she bit the inside of her cheek to distract herself. "Don't pretend you worried," she snarked back instead, crossing her arms over her chest.

His hand was on her shoulder then and she recoiled. The vampire visibly heaved a sigh at her behaviour and for the first time since his arrival transferred his attention to Frankie.

"Why don't you offer Mrs. Fletcher a hand, Frankie?"

Her father demanding to be alone in a room with her could not end well for either of them.

She didn't watch him leave but from the rustle of his uniform she could distinguish the reluctance with which he retreated. He probably guessed that this was a risky decision, knowing his prisoner's explosive behaviour. A moment later, the fact that she could already pick up his mannerisms without laying eyes on him, scared her. Had she really made such an effort to observe him so closely?

The vampire that called himself her father retracted his hand from her but she didn't drop her stiff posture. He should damn well know the extent to which he disgusted her. As a vampire, she now had the ability to hold this grudge for eternity. He could try all her wanted but there was no chance of redeeming himself in her eyes. He'd ordered her to die against her will, what kind of father thought that a blessing on his child?

"Would you like a drink?"

She shook her head no to his question, determined not to respond to any form of hospitality. He didn't offer her a disappointed reaction but settled into one of the leather chairs that surrounded the table. She preferred looking down at him from where she stood.

His laced fingers tapped against the glass, causing little ripples to move over the surface. "I thought that ten days would be sufficient for you to accept the decision we made for you"

It was like he was asking to be bashed until he bled at her feet. She inhaled deeply in an effort to contain her outrage at his indication that her transformation had been a mutual interest. This fight could only be won with outsmarting words.

"I don't remember being involved in making that decision"

A phony smile tugged at the corners of his mouth and grew larger. His eyes became aglow with something reminiscent of pity. He was mocking her again, treating her as though she would never measure up to his standards of intelligence. He sloshed the drink around in his glass and spoke with a reverence that could be expected from a holy man's prayers.

"Honey, you still don't see it. Look at where you are today. Compared to a month ago. Look at what I've created for you. Isn't it obvious? I saved you from an existence that only brought you grief. You know best that there was nothing out there for you as a human"

He didn't understand her just as much as she was ignorant of his thoughts. This lecture with its rehearsed words wasn't going to go anywhere.

"You're the blind one" she interrupted, "You pretend to be a father, which we both know you're not. If you were, if you wanted to save me, you would have ordered me killed because that's what I would I have chosen"

"No parent could bear to murder their child," he replied and it almost appeared that the words pained him. She didn't let herself be fooled, even if the thought was genuine.

Her statement was soft but full of blame, "I'm dead, Dad"

Bromley took a swig from his drink, averting his gaze. Nothing about him indicated that he felt remorse. Rather, from Alison's point of view, it was merely a pause on his part to be able to change the subject in his favour. She wouldn't let him.

"And it doesn't just stop with me. Those people I was with that night, the ones that were family to me while I was gone, all of those you said you couldn't help, are dead. You didn't save them because actually, you couldn't care less. They're inferior. They're cattle to you because you farm them like animals every day. The only reason you had me changed is because you're selfish"

He didn't think to bless her with eye contact so show his attention but he lowered his empty glass. She realized she had moved during her speech and closed the distance between them as though she could hammer her words into his skull. Yet the force behind them appeared to bounce off his cloak of indifference.

"You're selfish because you wanted me to be part of what you think is the perfect existence. You wanted a vampire daughter to show off to the world and share your great life since your wife can't. You know I hate what it has made you. You know I would rather be dead than live the way you do. You made that decision for me and then you threw me into a house that I will never call home with a person you knew I would try to break away from. Don't ever tell me that I should be grateful for it"

The older vampire slowly leaned back in his chair and smoothed his hand over a random crease in his suit. She watched his fingers, white and smooth for their age, glide over the material. If nature had not been denied its regular process on her father's body, they would bear wrinkles and would have grown calloused.

Simply that glimpse solidified her resolution. She had wanted to mature and age and eventually return to the earth as her body died. Immortality had never and would never be an attraction.

He spoke distinctly in a monotone, "I see that you've been thinking about your situation"

"You didn't expect me to fall into your arms. I made it clear that I'll fight this the entire way. So you can let me leave or deal with this every single time," she stated, her voice hard.

There was silence between them. She had said all that needed to be said. Her father didn't speak. Each of those seconds ticking by confirmed that her speech had thrown him off balance, even if he expertly masked any reaction. Finally, he dropped his hands onto the tabletop.

"You need time," was all he offered her before rising from his chair.

"I need you to leave me alone," she retorted without budging from her spot.

It was almost a tender second in which he searched her face and she met his calculating gaze with her determined one. She knew what she wanted and she wouldn't bend to his will any longer. In the civilised world he pretended to belong to, there was no reason for him to imprison her since she was an adult with the right to lead an independent life. She had a nostalgic sensation as she recalled the stubborn fights she had put up in her childhood. Her human childhood. It was truly reminiscent of previous father-daughter moments they had shared in a different period of life.

"I've missed you"

His words hung in the silence as he walked away and she didn't want to listen to them. She'd convinced herself from their first encounter barely a week ago that everything he told her was a lie. He used words as a mechanism to manipulate, deceive and confuse others and after so many years of separation, she could not identify the genuine ones. If there were any.

He was a vampire and had been for ages. She wasn't even certain that he could have missed her in such an emotional sense.

The temperature in the room must have dropped because she felt a chill run down her back.

As she ran a hand over her bare skin, it dawned on her that he had not mentioned the bruising that still covered her. He must have taken notice. Despite the long-sleeved sweatshirt and pants, they were clearly visible on her neck where the bruising was deepest and the cuts from glass shards on her face could not have healed entirely in the past hours.

Perhaps it looked more self-inflicted than anything and he'd drawn his own conclusions. She could have easily thrown herself into the glass table on purpose. She could have attempted to commit suicide by slitting her neck. Who knew what he thought about her? After poisoning herself it surely seemed that she was capable of anything.

Frustrated, she knocked the train of thought away and focused on expanding her awareness. This was definitely a nifty gift that came with immortality. Eavesdropping was made so much easier without giving away her presence.

The noises were dulled by the distant purr of the vacuum cleaner that now zigzagged through the first floor but she caught onto threads of conversation happening in the hallway behind the kitchen. She could pick out nothing concrete but she could imagine that Frankie was receiving his newest orders after she'd just made her opinions very clear.

It struck her that this was _the_ opportunity. An opening where her father and guard were both occupied, where there was enough noise being made to cover her and she had the advantage of sunlight. She wasn't afraid to burn. She knew for a fact that she didn't possess the phobia of it that older vampires did. If she happened to be caught on her way out, she could bluff her way through by threatening to leap into the sun.

Not a perfect plan by any means but this was her one shot. She was a fool for having wasted precious minutes already by standing around. Spontaneity could easily be her new forte with all the crazy stunts she had been pulling recently.

Barefoot she ghosted down the hallway, distancing herself from the kitchen and heading towards the door that led to the staircase into the garage. She'd made sure to check out the house during her stay. The noises from upstairs masked her footfalls to the extent she needed and she kept her ears especially tuned for any indication of a follower.

The door was nestled in a niche that served as the perfect vantage point for any attacker to back her into a corner but she ignored the what-ifs. This was risky, this was definitely not going to be easy and she was wholly unprepared. Best to tackle this challenge head on. The vital step was face to face with her now. She clasped the doorknob with a deep intake of breath and twisted.

It took only a heartbeat for the installed mechanisms to lock into place and then her eardrums were pierced by the screech of sirens. She had triggered the daylight alarm-system. She gave the knob another vicious twist and found that it had bolted itself from the outside.

No. No, no, no, no, no, no. It was a continuous scream that shot through her mind and had her flying out of control again.

Thoroughly frustrated was the bare minimum of what she was now. She backed away from the door only to raise her heel and kick at it. Once, twice, working herself into frenzy. The resounding ring told her that this was a door coated with metal on the other side.

The onslaught of sounds was pounding into her head and combined with her attempts to kick the solid door down, leaving her somewhat dazed. It didn't surprise her when arms grabbed her around the centre, lifting her away from the ground to push her against a wall. They were familiar arms and the sensation was just as reminiscent. With her face against the plaster and her body immobilised against it, she kept struggling. It was the only rebellion possible.

She wrestled against the hand that yanked her wrists behind her back but lost against the trained grip of the soldier. The metal felt like a branding around her wrists as it snapped shut.

The ringing in her ears stopped just as Frankie released her from where she was being crushed against the wall to have her standing in front of him.

"You should have listened to me," he hissed and it stung because his undertone spoke of contempt. So much for any earlier concern. She jabbed back in silence by thrusting her foot into his kneecap.

She couldn't be bothered with an answer. She didn't want to have to justify anything. Especially since her father was approaching. He must have shut off the alarm system. Instinctively, she raised her chin in defiance but turned her head away. Looking at him would only remind her of how he had reprimanded her as a child. But he didn't speak to her at all. He didn't acknowledge her whatsoever.

"I'll trust you'll take care of this, Frankie," He stepped past the two of them, clapping the young man on the shoulder as he departed, "Keep up the good work"

With precise ease he shifted an empty picture frame aside to tap a code into the pad behind. Then he opened the door Alison had just futilely attempted to unlock and made to head down to the waiting car. She couldn't believe it. This was ridiculous.

"That's it?" she yelled at his back, ignoring the sudden dig of Frankie's nails into her lower arm as a warning to keep her mouth shut, "Am I that big an embarrassment to you that you can't even face me to tell me off? You come to tell me I need more time and then take off again? You think that makes you a father?"

Charles Bromley stopped just over of the doorframe. She knew that was probably the most childish response she'd ever given but she was sick of silences and ignoring another. She was also sick of crawling after everyone for an answer.

However, he once again treated her outburst as though it had fallen on deaf ears and addressed Frankie.

"Get her to calm down. I hope there will be some form of progress made by the end of the week, "

She began to feel like a mental patient. Every horror movie she'd seen that involved asylums always featured a protagonist whose screams went unheard. Or ignored.

Bromley left without another glance back. As soon as the motor of the car roared to life downstairs she simply let go. She slumped to the carpet with nothing stopping her. She had ruined everything all over again, all by herself.

She didn't know how to deal with herself anymore. She simply didn't. She wanted comfort and solitude and freedom and guidance and love and hatred and acceptance and death all at the same time. She wanted the easy way out while knowing there was none.

Eventually, it was the concierge who broke the trance by wobbling down the stairs with the vacuum cleaner in hand. The clink of the machine on the marble tiles of the foyer had the man behind her stirring and reaching down to drag her back to her feet.

"Quit moping," he told her as he walked along the corridor behind her. At this point in time she didn't appreciate the bluntness, "It's not going to do you any good"

"Like you know," she replied.

"I do," he affirmed, marching her back up the stairs. She ignored the comment.

"What did he tell you to do to me?" she asked instead, meeting his eyes in honest wariness. Judging by her father's shrewdness, she wouldn't put anything past him. He always had a plan in the back of his mind and it wasn't hard to guess that this time round, Frankie had a major role to play.

"Change your mind"

Here he was mimicking her father with these cryptic phrases. Either she was going crazy or there was an impeding disaster building. Both of which involved her in a negative way. She played along though. The more she knew, the easier she could adjust.

"Torture isn't going to work. I've been there," she supplied, skipping a step to stand facing him at the top of the stairs.

He sized her up and flashed a tight-lipped smile. "I don't think anybody has suffered every type of torture yet"

That didn't sound good. It made sense to her that her father would hire somebody so unpredictable and simultaneously loyal to supervise her. "Enlighten me"

"Order of silence," he shrugged, climbing the last steps so she had to step back.

Another possibility took form in her head. She studied him closely as he entered her room and inspected it, like every other afternoon, for objects that could be potentially harmful if she attempted self-injury. "You told him, didn't you?"

That had him giving her his full attention on the spot. His hand stilled while reaching for the closet. "What?"

"What we did"

He let out a little laugh, accompanied by a rapid glance to the open door. "No"

She circled him to rest her back against the furniture he'd been about to open. "He's not blind. We're both bruised. If I was meant to be subdued all day, how on earth would you explain me beating you up head to toe?"

His eyes were huge and the gold was intensely bright in this proximity. "There are a hundred possibilities," his voice gained a suspicious edge, "What did you say?"

"Nothing. But I know sleeping with your boss' daughter isn't in the job description. I also know how much your job means to you," she whispered, "So if you don't want to end up out there with others on the streets, you're going to tell me what he told you. It's only between us anyway. Then I'll make sure not to let my tongue slip the next time he comes"

He'd gone white in the dimness and his eyebrows rose higher and higher with every word coming from her mouth. This was surely not what he had expected after the lapse of composure downstairs. She knew how to play her cards after all.

To her surprise, he laughed. Right in her face. Then he moved in, still chuckling, leaving only minimal space between their bodies as to project a sense of claustrophobia.

"You want to know what he asked me to do to you?" he repeated her demand, ghosting a finger over the purple colouring on her throat. Her cuffs became trapped against her body as she reflexively bent away from the touch.

And in her moment of distraction, he leaned down and pressed their lips together.


	13. Abandon

_Bromley Mansion, First floor, Bedroom_

She slapped him. Probably the most feminine and needless reaction she could have thought of but in that moment, it seemed the most appropriate. The handcuffs became a bit of a plus then because the metal slammed into his cheek with the contact. His lips lost hers but when their eyes met again, he still looked victorious.

She was livid now. She didn't even know how she kept herself restrained after this day. It took a lot not to jump him again and beat him up.

"What the fuck is this about?" she screamed at his face and was rewarded with a rough hand cutting off her stream of obscenities. She kept them coming anyway until he yanked on her shoulder as well to gain her attention. It hurt and she inhaled with the pain, which caused a momentary lapse in yells. He used that to his advantage.

"Get yourself under control and listen!" he ordered in a much more restrained tone than her, "We're in the same situation here. No, listen," he added as she squirmed under his grip, "Both of us are here for different reasons, but the point is that we can use the same method to get where we want"

She bit into his palm and practically hurled the next words at him, "What is _wrong_ with you? One moment you're with me, then you're playing my Dad's toy soldier and now you're kissing me and talking about some common goal. If anyone here is out of control, it's you! What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"Alison. Shut up before I have to force you," he was annoyed now and she didn't care in the least. Enough was enough. This was just the rotten cherry on top of this insane day.

"Close the door," she demanded and was impressed with the hard tone she could strike in the middle of their argument. He looked ready to object but the silence of the vacuum cleaner being off and the knowledge of the houseguest they had, lead him to comply and nudge the door shut.

He leaned against it so they stood on opposite ends of the room and crossed his arms expectantly. "You're ready to listen?"

"No. You listen. I'm done here. You people are all lunatics"

"Look who's talking," he scoffed but she ranted on without taking note of him.

"You can't just do this to me. One minute you're putting on the nice act, the next you're acting like you're above everything here and then you turn into a complete stranger when my father sets foot in here. I didn't want to talk about this but honestly; I'm done with it. So give me one, real, straight answer. What was the point of having sex in the first place?"

He seemed to have expected something of the sort. Obviously he'd seen the pressure mounting and mounting in her over the hours and knew that it was only a matter of time until the question broke out of her. He remained still but his stare grew wary. Almost like he didn't want to hear the answer coming out of his mouth.

"There was no point," he said slowly, "I hadn't planned to"

"You call that a good lie?" she whispered ferociously, advancing on him again, "Don't give me that. No, let me guess. It was actually my father's plan all along. To get you to seduce me into thinking this situation was all perks and fun for me. Is that it? He hired you to fuck me into agreeing?"

"No," he snarled and she stopped. She wanted to hear him deny it only to laugh at the lies. That was all they were. All they could be. His eyes were wild and almost earnest as he approached her again.

"No. It didn't have anything to do with that. I'm a good soldier, all right? I do my best. I follow orders, I don't screw up and I keep the ones in charge happy. So when your father asked me, personally, to watch over you I thought I'd made it. I was finally on top of something and getting the praise I'd never gotten as a human. The order was to supervise you, to stop you from doing anything to yourself and I've done that. It was never about anything else."

"Then why? Damn it, why did you?" she asked, almost a whisper.

"Because," he froze and the realization of weakness tainted his words, "I wanted you"

They both took a beat, processing that statement. Frankie lowered his head to the floor and she watched, stunned, as he tried to control his breathing. This argument was taking a lot more out of them than expected. He'd just confessed to something both of them had not anticipated.

She sat on her bed, slowly, feeling the mattress dent under her weight and the weight of his words settling on her shoulders. She couldn't even bring herself to raise her voice anymore. "I don't believe you. I'm know that I'm nothing to you."

His scoff was bitter. "That's because you convince yourself that everything I tell you is a lie"

"No, it's because it doesn't make sense. If you actually wanted me, for whatever reason, then why did you refuse to talk to me? You did everything to make me feel worthless! It was like you did it because you wanted to humiliate me, break me all over again. How was I meant to not misunderstand?"

"Don't you get it?" he was frustrated again, "I went against the rules. I betrayed your father's trust because I lost control of myself. I'd failed in my job by doing the most stupid, reckless thing possible and today you just proved me right. I should never have trusted you enough to let you go free"

"My attempt to run had nothing to do with you. I would have done it even if you'd cuffed me as soon as my father walked in. This isn't about you cutting me loose"

"Now it is. Now I was ordered to use whatever means necessary to get your acceptance. You could have behaved and at least pretended to comply with the situation. You made this about me with your idiotic stunt just now. This means that if I fail, I'll lose what I worked for and you will probably be handed over to some psychologist who uses methods none of us want to think about. The boss didn't come for a surprise visit. He gave me an ultimatum until the end of the week and we're only going to make it if you stop fighting and listen to me"

"I don't understand. You're saying that unless you achieve a change in my views on being dead, I'll be handed over to another person who will try to convince me and you'll fall out of my father's good graces. That's the big problem?"

He looked at her then, really looked at her and she thought she saw pity in his calculated gaze that held so much energy, passion but so little deep emotion. She almost understood his predicament but she didn't want to be the good girl here. That would undermine everything she'd sworn to herself she stood for. Her rebellion was a reminder of all those that had let their lives for her father's wealth. Frankie couldn't see that, even if she wanted him to. He'd long since accepted his identity.

"The longer you fight it, the longer you'll be in this place. You can be furious and in denial all you want but if you can't convince your father that you deserve freedom, he won't give it to you. You've been turned long enough now. Give it up"

She shook her head. "I can't"

"You just don't want to. Your head is getting in the way," He came to stand in front of her but she refused to be swayed, "You need to let go"

"Stop trying to make me. It won't work. I'm here to fight this. My father stole from me. Do you even remember what it felt like to feel your humanity slipping away?" she fastened her hand in his jacket, trying to engrave her words in his head so he understood and gave it a rest, "I look outside and all I see are people who live for nothing but themselves. They live for blood. I can feel that happening to me. I can feel emotions bottling themselves up somewhere inside me and I can't show them as much anymore because my mind shuts them out. I don't want to be that person. She's the one my father wants. I hate her. So I'll fight until he lets me go or has me killed"

He didn't say anything. He just seemed disappointed. No wonder. Trying and pushing and trying again without results were bound to lead to resignation. He was out of options. Violence wouldn't work. Talking wouldn't work. Pleasure hadn't convinced her either.

It was her state of mind that he was trying to change and he'd known from the beginning that he was not the one for the task. He'd told Bromley so and here he was, seeing the futility of his job. Alison was the most resilient person he had ever met and what more; she had no fear of death. It was a trait he almost envied.

"You won't win, you know that," he eventually stated. She managed a small smile.

"I will. Either way, my father won't get what he wants. That's all I need," she explained. She noticed how her hand had bunched the fabric where his name was stitched into his uniform and unclenched it, running her finger over the letters. "Like I said, it has nothing to do with you. It's my father's fault for putting you here. Anybody else wouldn't be able to change me either."

"You don't want a future. You'll die just to prove a point."

He said it matter-of-factly even though he meant it as a question. He couldn't grasp the notion that she didn't want to live, in whatever body, mind or state of life. Vampirism had it limitations, just like humanity. Both had flaws but that didn't mean it wasn't a life worth living.

She shrugged, like this wasn't a big deal and she'd made her resolution a long time ago. "I wanted a future. But not like this"

He growled in the back of his throat. It could be so simple but she always complicated the situation. It was as though she purposely tried to rile up those around her. Nobody could understand her mentality and she didn't seem to expect that. She wanted to be left to her own devices and he couldn't allow that. Bromley had given him orders.

"Then fight for it. Stop fighting your father and yourself. It's a losing battle. Unless you change you wont be able to create yourself a future"

"Just like you did when you turned?" she asked, as though to assess him, "Was that to build yourself a future? Or were you just scared of staying human and being on the losing side?"

"My choices have nothing to do with yours," he objected but she was having none of it. He was going to give her answers today.

"Don't give me that. You're supposed to convince me here. So, was it worth it?"

He moved away to lean against her desk, examining the wooden surface as he contemplated her question. It took him a while before he looked over his shoulder, back at her, and told her with firm conviction, "Yes"

She believed him. He was satisfied with where he was at, right here, right now. She could only begin to guess what his human life must have been like for him to accept becoming a monster so easily. That didn't do anything for her outlook though. She knew with complete assurance that this was not the life she wanted.

She was about to retort something when a tentative knock sounded on the bedroom door. Frankie abandoned his position at the table to open it and she immediately trashed the thought of trying to continue the conversation. The moment was gone. She could feel the formality in the air as he addressed the housekeeper who'd come to announce she was leaving and that she'd placed the blood into the fridge. She didn't bother listening for more details.

Instead she went over to the window and rested her head against the glass. It was soothing and she wanted to dissolve and merge into it, become invisible, smooth and silent. Trapped inside, nobody would bother her and she could vanish from constant scrutiny.

When her door was closed she didn't need to look to know she was alone. Frankie had said all that needed to be said and obviously hoped to have her reflect on his advice. The hell she would. Her father could wait all eternity but she would never conform. The arrogance of his visit had reaffirmed her knowledge that he was a self-centred bastard only looking for his own benefit. She was his test subject to see how persuasive he could be.

She wondered how long it would take for him to finally acknowledge his failure.

Finally, they were alone in the house. Frankie settled into the armchair of the freshly vacuumed living room and let out a slow, long breath. He was not in a good mood. Really, his entire day had just been turned upside down by the arrival of Bromley. The man had thrown him completely off guard and he was ticked off at the fact that he hadn't been given a warning. This was a mission after all and if the man wanted to check in on his daughter, he should have been informed.

That wasn't the real reason of course. He'd just been frantic about being caught. Nobody but himself was to blame for the complications that had arisen. He'd slept with the boss' daughter, not to forget brutally harming her, and that put him at fault and made him wary of repercussions for his behaviour. He'd prayed that the fading bruises on himself and Alison's severe ones would be brushed off as her struggling against him or attempting another suicide. Either way, Bromley would know he was not doing his work well, despite his positive words. The injuries reflected badly on him, whatever angle he tried to look at it from.

And now this. He closed his eyes as he recalled the man's words.

"I'm aware that she is being problematic. I've underestimated her will. I believed the change would suffice to make her see but it appears she must be introduced to more convincing methods. I want you to use everything at your disposal to have her attitude improve. Anything at all"

Frankie had almost reeled back at being granted such liberties. He was also confused and behind the unmoving mask he feared that Bromley meant exactly what he was implying. He wasn't sure he was hearing right. The straight-laced father telling him to persuade his child by whatever ways he wanted?

"Sir?"

"You know what I mean, Dalton," Bromley's eyes were stony but his tone had the soldier know that he meant the opposite of pain infliction, "A little bit of bonding has the potential to do the trick. I don't believe that should pose a problem?"

"No Sir," he'd replied with a neutral stance despite his mind feverishly trying to grasp that this conversation was absolutely out of place.

"Good," he'd been back to business as though this demand had never been mentioned and after straitening his suit added, "Send me a message if there are positive results within the week. Otherwise I see myself forced to send in a different kind of professional. Are we clear?"

"Absolutely"

He leaned over with his elbows on his knees and pressed the balls of his hands against his eyes. His head was whirring and he didn't know where to start anymore. It was one thing for Bromley to allow him to use any methods whatsoever but another to decide how to approach his daughter after everything that had happened recently. The conversation just now had not made things simpler, it had rather confirmed that he was already in deep and losing control over the situation.

He'd already made the largest mistake by confessing about fostering some kind of affection for her. It would be wishful thinking to believe that she had overlooked that slip-up. He'd allowed himself to be on familiar, almost friendly terms with her and this was the result. Experiencing feelings like this had not been on his agenda when he'd signed up and he felt conflicted between wanting to live them and repressing them for the sake of his sanity.

There was just a whole lot on his plate at the moment and he didn't know what to take the first bite out of. He'd been holed up in this house for too long. He wasn't used to this. He needed to be out in the action. He much preferred the adrenalin of the hunt and contributing by ridding the streets of subsiders. He just wasn't cut out for this.

He could hear her moving upstairs, right above his head, just pacing the floor back and forth, probably beating herself up over similar stupidities. Again, he was struck by how similar they were, despite their differing views and goals. It was strange how this constant observing of her had led to building in interest not only in her actions but also in her past, her relationship to her father and her as a person.

He supposed it must have been inevitable but he pondered this change anyway, trying to pinpoint when he'd begun empathizing with her on some level. Even though it didn't even matter. The problem didn't lie in that he had taken a liking to her but that he had no clue what to do about it. There were just too many strings attached to the situation. On top of it being unrealistic and against his nature to have feelings for her, it would be impossible to act on them anyway.

He was so deep in contemplation that he almost missed the vibration of his phone against his thigh. It took him a moment to register that it meant there was an incoming call that asked for his attention. Immediately, he extracted it and stared at the screen, half-wishing it was Edward's number shown there. It wasn't. He clenched his jaw but accepted the call nonetheless, repositioning his poker face and monotone voice.

"Chief"

"Good to hear from you, Dalton. Everything under control?"

Frankie wanted to laugh at the irony of this. What a question. Of course he had everything under control in that sense. He just didn't feel very much in command of himself anymore.

"Yes Sir"

"You'll be interested in this. Edward Dalton has been apprehended," The tone was uncharacteristically smug and unconsciously, Frankie ground his teeth together. He stood and began to pace the room just as the person above his head. The tension inside him was reaching its snapping point. Although he surely should be relieved, he was well aware that the man had no finished yet. He swallowed, working on keeping his stoic demeanour intact.

"Glad to hear that, Sir"

"Your suspicion about that woman proved correct. She was captured along with Mr. Dalton and another human. They seem to have formed an alliance. I recommend you get down here. The situation has changed"

The only time that his job frustrated him was when information was purposely withheld from him. Or when he was forced to remain in a sticky situation where he was helpless to be of use either way. This was one of them. His ran a hand through his hair, gripping the back of neck as to not smash the nearest piece of furniture. There had been enough damage today.

"I'm currently indispensable, Sir. Abandoning my post would require Mr. Bromley's permission. This is a personal mission."

"Understood. Well, report back once you are relieved. We will deal with him"

The line went dead before Frankie could throw in another word. He was nearly shaking with repressed anger. Frustration and despair were meshing into one and he sank onto the sofa, head in his hands. He didn't know what to do.

They were going to kill Edward. He'd gone behind their backs and helped the humans. One of the few existing laws in their world and he'd broken it. There was no way around it. This wasn't what Frankie had turned him for. Not for treachery. He'd wanted to save the only family he had left.

He knew it would cost him a lot but he was done sitting around waiting. It was killing him. Dropping his phone back into his pocket, he marched upstairs, threw the bedroom door open and entered. Alison had just looked up from her book when he ripped it from her hands and pulled her cuffs towards him.

Completely off guard and uncomprehending, she witnessed in silence as he unlocked the bindings. Before she could react or open her mouth to ask what the hell was happening, he'd refastened the right link around her arm and the other to the post of her headboard.

"What are…hey, what do you…" he didn't leave her the time to pose questions he didn't have the patience to answer right now and instead leaned over her, forcing her back into her pillows. She didn't resist out of caution that he was having another one of his violent phases. His face was impassive but his gaze so excruciatingly close to her face told a different story.

"Stay. It's important"

Then he left her in the midst of a rumpled heap of covers and an empty house without looking back.


	14. Running

_Bromley Mansion, First floor, Bedroom_

Half an hour down the line and she'd given up on trying to pull her hand out of the cuffs. Even though they'd grown sweaty with the effort she was putting in, there was no escaping. They were simply too narrow for her hand to fit through.

She swore repeatedly, finally letting herself go slack. She still had no idea what on earth had made Frankie storm out of the house like that but she'd be damned if she didn't exploit this opportunity. If only there was some kind of object that would help her get out of these cuffs. But of course Frankie had made sure anything she could harm herself with was gone. Nothing but solid, heavy furniture in the room.

Alison pulled on the binds again but her hand stuck every time she tried squeezing it through. It wasn't slippery enough and unless she crushed the bones, just pulling it through by force wasn't an option. She needed less friction.

There was soap and water in the bathroom but even if she managed to shove her bed over in that direction, she wouldn't be able to reach from the doorway. She swore again for good measure, rattling the damn contraption against solid iron bars. She glanced over at the clock, registering that it had been almost forty minutes since his departure. She wasn't getting anywhere like this.

She could scream for help until someone came. But if they did it was unlikely they'd make it inside past her father's security system and if someone called the police, she would have to answer questions she didn't have the time to answer. Plus, her father would doubtlessly be contacted the moment she was identified. She had to do this by herself. There was no way she was waiting around for Frankie to return. There would never be such a chance again.

She thrashed again but that did little to impress the handcuffs. Breathing heavily, she stared at the metal, frantically looking for a plausible option. It hit her then, that there was an alternative. Not one she thought she'd have to resort to. The memory almost had her gagging now and her free hand involuntarily traced the marks on her neck.

Here went nothing.

She switched positions, stretching out her bound arm. Then she bit into the wrist.

The taste was abhorrent and she had to force herself to keep deepening the bite until blood streamed down her arm. How she'd managed to feed on herself days ago, she couldn't fathom anymore. It was worse than she remembered. She tilted it, spreading the fluid all across the limb with her free hand. The wound stung but she was past caring. She spat out what had gotten into her mouth and continued applying pressure to the binds.

Placing her bare feet against the wall, she used all possible leverage she could get, throwing her entire body against the handcuffs. Blood was covering her hands, dripping onto the sheets and most importantly, making the entire ordeal more slippery. Her flesh was squeezing through the opening slightly further than before.

Groaning, she squeezed her eyes shut as she pushed off the wall. Something was happening. If only by a millimetre, she could swear it was sliding through the cuff. Her arm felt as though it was being ripped from its socket and overstretching at the same time. This would be the first time she was thankful for having slim wrists compared to the average person. These handcuffs weren't the correct size. Just her luck.

The bite was radiating pain through her skin and for the first time, she hoped she wasn't poisoning herself too severely with this experiment. She gasped when her knuckles were forced against the metal. Skin tore off as she forced it through the solid ring and there was no hiding the agonized cry. She kept pulling despite the gruelling sensation. She was so close. Her arm was freely bleeding with the exertion but she couldn't afford to weaken.

There. Another millimetre. Almost yelling with frustration, she heaved backwards, ripping her upper body away from the binds. It was a moment of unbelievable pressure; her arm was on fire and then a snap of gravity. She flew backwards, tumbling straight over the edge of the bed to land on the floor headfirst.

For a moment she couldn't breathe. Whether from the impact, the rush in her head or the absolute miracle she had just pulled off, she had no idea. She was free. She'd done it. She was going to make it out of here. It took a while to regain her bearings but the rational survivor soon took over her body. The bleeding had to be stemmed or she wouldn't make it very far tonight.

Staggering to her feet, she clamped her hand around the injured arm, trailing drops across the corridor as she headed to Frankie's room. He had used bandages; there were hopefully still some around. She dug through his belongings one-handed but the only remotely useful thing she found was a spare shirt. It would have to do. She quickly tore off several strips, always an eye on the doorway. She ran her arm under water for a couple of seconds to get rid of the mass murderer appearance and wrapped up the injury.

She allowed herself a moment to gather her thoughts. If she was going to make it far, she needed to be better prepared. Wearing shoes this time would be a smart move and perhaps taking some kind of hooded jacket so she wouldn't be recognized instantly. She hurried back into her room, threw open the closet and within seconds, threw something over her sweatshirt and jeans. Her boots were still bloodstained from the time in the cell but that was the least of her troubles at this point.

The house was still silent when she tiptoed downstairs. This didn't seem to be a trap. He had gone. She'd half believed the sound of the door had been a ploy to test whether she would try to escape again. Her vampire guard had truly vanished. The only barrier between her and the outside world was the alarm system, which only unlocked doors according to that code her father had entered. With a sinking stomach, she realized this might prove an even bigger challenge than wriggling out of handcuffs.

Alison paused trying desperately to think of a backdoor that would be accessible. There was none. Apart from the main entrance and the garage door, there was no way out. At least not in the traditional manner. She turned to look at the living room area. Despite vampire housing having close to no windows, this mansion had not been modified to that extent. The floor to ceiling window had been kept, presumably for the view of the manicured lawn behind the house. Her father and his weakness for luxurious appearances.

A determined grin worked its way onto her face. Unless that was bulletproof glass, she had found a way out. It would doubtlessly trigger the alarm and alert the entire neighbourhood but she would be long gone by then.

She took a deep breath, not feeling it in her lungs. Then she marched over to the television. It was practically the same size as her but thin and light enough to hold. Several well-aimed kicks later, the screen tumbled off the wall in a flurry of shards and torn wires. She didn't waste time checking if the commotion had brought anyone out to investigate. Pulling the object off the ground, she managed to position herself in front of the window, trailing wires behind her. She absently noted that the outside was growing lighter and that she should forge some kind of plan concerning the approaching dawn. But then the screen was flying at the window and the echoing sound of splintering glass filled her ears.

She was tempted to yell with relief, despite the shrill alarm ringing through the house once again. She had done it. After plotting a hundred different ways to get out of here for days, she'd done it under the most unlikely of circumstances. She was still a survivor, still with some kind of guardian angel that let her get lucky every so often. She didn't miss a beat as she sprang outside, landing in the dusting of glass, which crunched under her feet. The street lay before her again and she sprinted, never looking behind her.

Every now and again, a car passed by going in the opposite direction - people returning from work because the night was drawing to a close. That ruled out asking anybody for a ride out of town. She kept running, feeling the wind dimming out any sound as it rushed through her ears. This time she had enough peace of mind to consider the street signs around her, following those that led out of the suburbs. Every now and again the symbol of a large S was also present on the signs. She wondered if it was the subway as she had known it and more importantly, if that led to the heart of the city or away from it.

Now that she was out here, her father's house becoming distant behind her, she gave honest thought to where exactly she was headed. She didn't know. As much as she'd hated what Frankie had told her about being alone now, there was a ring of truth to it. Her first rational idea had been to find humans and seek shelter there. Now she realized, that was impossible. They would either kill her or run from her. What kind of ally did she represent, even as a sympathizer? These were times where distrust kept you alive.

It looked like she was going to have to battle it out on her own. At this point, she didn't think about blood. Distantly, she knew it was becoming more than scarce out here and that the possibility of starvation wasn't farfetched. But right now, with the taste of freedom on her tongue and the stinging reminder in her arm, that she had escaped her father's clutches, it didn't bother her.

The horizon was visibly lighting in the distance now; her eyes were beginning to register the difference. It was a faint warning tingle under her skin. The vampire in her feared the rising light. She was the only person walking on the pavement at this point, apart from the occasional stray car that breached the speed limit to get away from the open sky faster. She couldn't run anymore either and slowed to a fast walk. Vampire endurance really wasn't that impressive. A well-trained human athlete could surely have matched this distance. She took a look around the junction she'd reached, trying to decide on a direction. A couple of hundred metres to her left, the subway-like symbol was blinking at her, indicating an entrance to the underground.

There was a barely perceptible hue of gold pushing away the darkness. As much as she'd craved sunlight since her change, there was no denying that if she stayed out here, she would be ash faster than she could blink. Now that she had regained independence, she wasn't so adamant on death anymore. Escaping who she was now had grown less important than escaping her prison. She'd find a way to work around the bloodlust. Maybe try to raid a hospital blood bank. She'd worry about that when hunger started gnawing at her.

For now, she turned towards the sign and walked along the deserted road into the unknown. The stairs leading under the street didn't look any much more inviting than the mansion she'd just escaped from. Not that there was much of a choice. Alison wandered into the artificially lit underground, eyes and ears open for the sound of heavy army boots running her way. Despite her euphoria, she couldn't shake the thought that Frankie was just waiting behind her, ready to pounce and drag her back again.

She kept moving, hood pulled down far enough to avoid any passersby glimpsing her face. Not that there were many. At some point, a handful of teenagers appeared ahead, smoking and bickering amongst another but they turned a corner ahead of her and disappeared. In this skewed sense of time, she supposed they'd stayed out late. Slowly, she became aware of the fact that this wasn't a subway at all, but a network of underground tunnels that acted as walkways, maybe connecting the city hotspots. All these small flights of stairs probably led straight into buildings, so vampires wouldn't come into contact with sunlight at any cost.

She stopped, leaning against a wall. So she was most definitely walking into the city instead of away from it. The problem was, until night fell again, she couldn't get out of this maze without risking burning on the spot. There were just about two options here. Find a corner and huddle up for ten or so hours until the sun went down, or keep moving in the hopes that it would increase the odds of not being discovered.

Ironic, how becoming an immortal creature didn't leave her feeling any less hunted than before. The only difference was that she had the means to give back as good as she got. As good as she'd become at remaining entirely still for long periods of time, she was too edgy to remain in one spot. Her feet carried her further, turning right and left aimlessly. When more people turned up around her, she took a different direction again.

At some point, she did spot a sign that pointed her towards a subway station, but the risk of security being around there was too great. Finally, she reached a deserted side corridor and dropped onto the damp tiles. Her throat felt slightly dry, as though she was in need of a gulp of water. It must have been all the walking; it was making her thirsty despite having had a meal not so long ago. She couldn't afford to be thinking of blood now. Alison shook her head and rubbed over her eyes with one hand. Being on the run as a human seemed like a piece of cake compared to this.

A second later, she twisted around sharply. A sound had rasped through the emptiness, bouncing off the tiled walls. She got to her feet slowly, trying to locate the origin. She couldn't see anyone on either side of the hallway. The noise repeated itself, a strange mixture of a low screech and groan. That noise was definitely not human and she'd never heard a vampire make that noise, not even when they were staked. If her heart had been beating, it would have doubled its pace. Pressed against the flat surface, she slowly raised her head to the ceiling and had to bite back a scream.

Whatever it was, it was the most horrific thing she'd ever come across. A creature that looked like a sack of bones, held together by grey skin with unseeing eyes and a gaping mouth. It was contorted in the strangest way, holding onto the ceiling with arms that had developed into leathery wings and legs, twisted aside to grasp onto loose tiles. She was paralyzed as she stared up at it, taking in exactly what happened to those that were starved for blood. A Subsider, appearing a hundred times more threatening than she'd seen them on the news.

He must have smelt her blood through the bandage, she thought dimly. The thing bared its fangs, stretching out a wing-like limb and leaving a deep scratch in its wake. She worked on getting her legs under control. This was bad. She had no idea how to defend herself against something like that. It was a desperate beast and with no more rationality, it would probably kill her. She had to move and do it fast.

Apparently the creature had the same in mind because as soon as Alison even twitched a muscle, it let itself fall, slamming onto the ground in front of her and burying the tip of its wing in the wall beside her head. She let herself fall, dodging the thing's attack and breaking into a run as soon as it drew back. Its angry screech rang through her head, echoing back from all sides and she kept running. Suddenly, finding people to mingle with sounded like a fantastic idea.

The clumsy gait of the pursuer grew distant as she randomly swerved around a corner and sprinted towards a sign at the end of the corridor. Ignoring that it distinctly said: No entry, she headed towards it at full tilt, slamming against the entrance it indicated. The steel door didn't budge. She swore, circled, and found herself in a dead end. She cursed again, looking for anything to defend herself with.

The beast was still following; she could hear it approaching from the opposite end. She was about to throw herself against the door again, when it swung open from the inside, catching her in the shoulder and sending her tumbling onto the wall. A whole string of quiet curses fell from her lips and when she looked up, she saw three figures running past. None of them seemed to notice her lying behind the door and despite her aching back from the impact, she was glad for it.

That was until the Subsider turned the corner.

The three stopped dead in their tracks, two of them even backed up a fraction. She could have slipped through the open door then and disappeared from view, but something stopped her. Something she couldn't place until she zeroed in on the woman in the group. She was bleeding and even from the distance, Alison was convinced that she could see the trickle running down the wrist. And it was human blood.

She didn't know what was happening. It felt like she was in a state of wonder and unprecedented hunger at the same time. It had been over ten days since she'd last seen a human. How could one be here in the city? Everyone knew it was impossible to escape once you'd been caught for blood farming. Her feet seemed to carry her towards the woman despite the danger at the mouth of the corridor. There was a man beside her, both backing up from the creature. He was bleeding too, his whole arm soaked with it and it also smelt very much human.

Her throat ignited just tasting the smell on the air. She barely registered the leader of the trio shooting at the Subsider, making the thing scream in pain. She was so close, only a few steps…

That's when the man half-turned and caught sight of her. She recoiled immediately, catching his eye as he yelled at the woman and pointed something wooden at Alison. Instinctively, her fangs extended but at this point, she was so elated at finding humans that she threw her hands up in surrender at the same time. It seemed to disconcert the man just enough to not stab her instantly. In fact, there was something familiar about him. It only clicked when she studied his face and a hazy memory flooded her inner eye.

"E. Dalton," she said, staring at the human, who she could have sworn had been a vampire doctor only a week ago.

The woman was looking back and forth between the two, seemingly torn between backing away and taking the stake from her partner to finish Alison off. The dark-haired man was looking at her strangely, the memory apparently failing him as he tried to place her. Behind them, the starved vampire's body collapsed on its side and the assailant turned back to the remaining two.

"Ed! We have to move!"

She froze and it felt like ice running through her veins. That third voice was one she recognized only too well. Her eyes darted past the humans, who both twisted at the call too, and focused on the man in the uniform. Vampire eyes stared earnestly at the human with the stake before sliding over the woman's shoulder as he caught sight of her. She hissed in a breath. Frankie Dalton.


	15. Humans

_Subwalk, Bromley Marks Underground Parking, Staff Exit_

Just her luck. She wanted to slam her head against a wall. Or throw something heavy at him. There was a stretch of silence that felt much longer than its few seconds. Then the soldier voiced exactly what was racing through her mind. With the slight difference that his expression was complete disbelief and hers dark with warning.

"Shit"

"You know her?" the woman asked, flashing a wary look at Alison, backing up.

"What are you doing here?" she countered before Frankie could explain anything in return. She turned to the dark-haired man in confusion, the scent of blood completely gone from her mind now. Incredible how seeing the soldier had instantly cleared her mind, made her alert again, "And how…how are you human? You treated me here and suddenly you…"

"We don't have time for this," Frankie cut in, pulling the older man's arm, "You need to get out of the city. Now"

He was politely ignored. The one that shared the same name but was so completely different seemed to have drawn his own conclusions about the situation. Recognition spread across his face and she wondered if that was a good or bad sign. "You're _his_ daughter," the man said, dropping the stake back to his side, "The one who poisoned herself"

She honestly didn't know if that made her any less of a threat than the subsider that had just attacked them. She nodded anyway. Her options were either to continue fleeing on her own or possibly, maybe make it out with these humans. They were obviously on the run and she'd rather the second choice, even if it involved her bodyguard as part of the picture.

She needed to find allies and apparently, this doctor seemed to have enough of an interest to think about it. It seemed she'd made a positive impression on this brother in the five minutes that he'd treated her. That was a lot better than what she'd achieved in all her time with Frankie.

"I can help," she offered, holding the man's gaze. They didn't need to know that she had no clue about this place or how to get out.

"Ed, we have to go" the woman chimed in and threw a worried look at the door they'd come out of. She was pale and judging from the way her body was shaking, it was either from shock or blood loss. Alison wished she could remember what that fear felt like, that fear that she couldn't protect herself with an injured body. Even now, with her blood loss and fatigue she wasn't worried.

Even so…she didn't really know what was going on here. Pieces were falling into place and the longer she took in the scene in front of her, the clearer things became. These two people were following the soldier. They were actually relying on him for guidance. It stunned her. She couldn't believe that he was helping fugitive humans escape. That seemed impossible. Her father's lapdog? The loyal follower?

"You trust him?" Alison exclaimed, pointing at Frankie. The woman paused, waiting for the man to take care of the situation. The one in question was quicker to answer.

"This has nothing to do with you," Frankie shot back.

Alison simply glared before changing her approach. She opened her mouth to say that she was looking for a way out of the city, to beg the humans to trust her enough to let her get away from this place, but the blood doctor spoke first. He was observing her with curious eyes despite the urgency. "She can come with us"

He'd read her mind. Had she been able to still feel relief, as strongly as before, she would have probably sunk to her knees at his words. Finally, finally somebody was offering her a way out. A human who was prepared to believe her despite what she was. Fate was being far too gracious today.

On the other side of the corridor, the solider looked just about ready to drag her back the way he had once before. Despite his body language clearly addressing the human, it couldn't be clearer that he was telling her to back off.

"No, we can't risk it. She isn't involved in this," Frankie objected. She instantly wanted to punch him. There was hardness in his voice but she could sense the emotion when he addressed his brother. He obviously wasn't thinking rationally. Who knew what had happened in the hours in which he'd been gone.

She wasn't sure she wanted to.

"The more vampires we are, the less of a problem we have getting through these tunnels without questions asked," Ed stated sharply, moving to leave, "Come on"

"She'll make it more difficult. You know who she is!" Frankie snapped back. His insistence let another thought surface – what did the doctor know of the events in the recent weeks? It didn't seem like Frankie had informed him about his relation to her.

"And if we don't move now, none of us might make it," the older brother argued back. His eyes had the most beseeching look Alison had ever seen. Had she been on the receiving end of that, she would have caved in immediately. As a human, the man could practically project emotion.

Frankie growled under his breath but turned away. He wasn't going to waste any more time. The woman also accepted without further objection, evidently too worn out to argue. Alison didn't miss the soldier's conflicted glance in her direction but she couldn't read it. Even though she was absolutely confused as to what was going on and why Frankie was helping them instead of handing them over, logic told her more trouble was waiting if they were caught. She didn't ask anything else as they started moving down the passages.

After several minutes of grim, strained movement, she shrugged out of her hooded jacket and passed it to the woman. The human almost jumped at the contact and Alison felt a strange déjà vu that, had they been in reverse positions, she would have done the same. She'd never pictured what it would be like to embody the one to be feared, the monster. Here she was, a runaway vampire only trying to help and still posing a threat.

"The bleeding is too obvious," she muttered and despite the brunette's hesitant expression, she did take the garment, flipping the hood over her head to hide the giveaway eye colour. Interesting, that they should both have the same injuries but Alison guessed the woman's had a very different reason for infliction.

They moved wordlessly, with the soldier occasionally pointing out directions as they went. It must have been late enough in the day for most vampires to be at home since they barely passed any on their way. The woman beside her was panting heavily and Alison saw the sleeves being stained darker. She quickly looked away. Holding onto rationality wasn't going to be easy if they continued like this all day.

When they finally reached some stairs, which Frankie seemed to have been headed for, the vampire-turned-human noticed the bleeding too and supported her in climbing up the narrow steps. Alison kept her distance behind them, trying to quench the desire to bury her teeth in the human's vein. She needed to refocus.

Frankie pulled out a key and pushed open the door in front of them. The smell of metal and rubber greeted her, so she wasn't very surprised that they found themselves in a storage room bathed in fluorescent white. As the door snapped shut behind the four, the humans collapsed on the floor to catch their breath, while Alison and Frankie faced another in a silent challenge. She knew what he wanted to know but she was far more interested in finding out what was happening here than explaining herself.

"This is your brother?" she asked, although they both knew she was stating the obvious. She had heard and seen enough since meeting the two of them to deduce that information.

He only nodded curtly, never taking his eyes off her. She wondered what was raging inside him the most at this point. He surely looked like he was ready to throw her through a glass table again. She didn't even blame him. Somehow, she'd managed to disrupt his plans from day one.

"Edward," the man in question answered in his place, pressing a hand to his neck wound and wincing at the touch. "And your name …?"

"Alison," she replied.

He nodded and watched her with something she could only describe as concern. "That was a desperate thing you did that day. Painful. Not many vampires try to end it that way unless they're starving"

She was impressed he still recalled treating her, that he remembered her at all. She supposed she was one of the more interesting patients he'd gotten. Suicidal vampires weren't the norm.

"I wanted to die," she stated bluntly. It was the truth. The man nodded and somehow, she believed that he understood. Even then, he seemed to have kept a connection to his emotions and seeing him human again gave her hope. Or at least, what she remembered hope to feel like. A sensation she'd missed for a while. "I never wanted to be _this. _This is what my father wants"

Another nod. Something close to a guilty look as he watched her. Then Edward's attention moved to his companion. "Frankie, you have a first-aid kit somewhere here?"

The soldier was stiff and she could tell he was immensely perturbed by the familiarity with which his brother spoke to her. There was something in his eyes that made Alison nervous. It was a taxing expression, as though he was unsure of who to deal with first. Could vampires even go into shock? She'd seen Frankie in distress; feeling like he was backed into a corner and it hadn't been something she wanted to repeat.

"I don't think so. This is just storage for weapons that need repairing," he replied.

"I'm fine," the woman insisted but it was obvious that both the humans were worn out. They needed transport out of here and medical attention.

"Give me your shirt," Alison demanded, turning to face the soldier. It took him a moment to realize that she was addressing him, freely speaking to him in an order. Of course, he didn't waste time going on defence.

"What?" The irritation on his face didn't bother her anymore.

Honestly, for someone who must have had first aid training and survival tactics in his profession, he wasn't catching on quickly. "Your shirt. We can bandage up the injuries if we tear it up"

Before he could object, surely just for the hell of it, Edward jumped in. "Good. If we can make it back to the base by dark, it'll be enough until then"

She could see the soldier inwardly sigh before he caved and began pulling off clothes. Alison honestly tried not to look but there wasn't much else to pay attention to. Having experienced that body once, she just couldn't get rid of the memory.

He handed her the shirt to hold and pulled out his knife, ripping it into narrow strips. She was tempted to congratulate him on managing to work as a team. If this was going to end in her favour, she was going to have to keep snarky, sarcastic comments in her head. He caught her gaze as they worked and it was growing unexpectedly less hostile.

"How did you get out?" he murmured, low enough for the humans not to hear.

She shrugged, "Does it matter? I got creative"

His eyes were on her bruised hands and she looked away, knowing he was probably reconstructing the escape. She gave the strips to Ed, who bandaged up his companion best he could. She had to turn away at the sight of it. Why was she so hungry again all of a sudden? She wasn't in need of blood yet. Maybe the effort of breaking out had taken more out of her than expected.

"We need to get to the meeting point," the woman demanded, now working on stemming the blood flow from her partner's neck, "He'll come looking for us otherwise. As long as the sun is up, we have the advantage"

"Where?" Frankie demanded.

Edward turned towards them again, already getting back onto his feet. "We need a car"

It was almost disturbing how easy Frankie made it seem. Ten more minutes down the Subwalk system and he broke open a door leading into the dimly lit interior of a townhouse.. Despite the warning uttered by the humans, he just shook his head, slamming his shoulder into the back door until it gave way. Alison was quite sure there were cameras watching them but refrained from voicing her concerns. He was the only one that knew these tunnels Looking around the place, she saw that is was nowhere near as secure as her father's mansion. This was the kind of house that had barely been modified for security.

"How can you be so sure nobody is here?" his brother queried in a low voice, as they slipped into the house. Frankie's shoulders tightened on the subject, although Alison was sure she was the only one that noticed the minimal change.

"We raided this neighbourhood weeks ago. There was a large subsider development around here - couldn't afford blood anymore"

Nobody said it aloud. This was a ghost house now. The inhabitants were long gone or starving to death in a closed facility. The curious part was, that Alison didn't feel anything in particular at the thought. It crossed her mind that this could have been her fate, had she not been the daughter of a particular influential man. Someone like Frankie would have come to dispose of her once she had lost all sanity.

She kept her back to him as she stared into the empty living room, the bare kitchen. No signs of a struggle but everything was eerily...dead. She could sense Edward behind her, his breathing still uneven from the running. The woman found the car keys hanging beside the main door and tossed them at the soldier. They were perfectly in place as though nobody had ever touched them. As though their owner wasn't gone for good.

Frankie wasted no more time leading them to the car. This garage door in this place wasn't solid steel and she caught herself thinking about how easy it would have been to escape this kind of house. She could have been free weeks ago.

"I can drive," Edward offered.

His brother gave him a look before settling into the driver's seat, simply pointing out, "Your neck is ripped open"

Alison slipped into the back beside the woman, making sure to have a good view of what Frankie was doing. As convenient as this was, she didn't trust this situation yet. It was such a change to see him…dare she think it, to see him care about someone more than himself. He was risking a lot by helping these humans and it just didn't fit. He'd told her time and time again that his position was everything to him. What if there was an ulterior motive? He still had time to hand them over and present himself as the hero who captured the runaways.

She had interrupted though. How would he explain her presence?

Sinking back in the seat, she kept a close eye on him as he activated daylight driving and pulled out of the garage. At the same time, she tried not to focus on how the scent of drying blood was filling the interior of the car. The bandages were suppressing it but the scent didn't make it less of a temptation. She supposed Frankie had more experience in withstanding but she was really beginning to feel the gnawing in her stomach, the burn in her throat. She clenched her hands around the seatbelt.

She had to focus. No beating hearts, no pulsing veins.

"What happened up there?" Frankie's voice rang through her head, snapping her back into the moment. She blinked, realizing that she could see the outside in broad daylight right in front of her. She hadn't realized how distant that memory already was but looking out, she could feel the phantom warmth of it on her skin. Or maybe it was the tingle of burning.

From the way his brother fidgeted, it seemed the question had been posed to him. It took both the humans a moment to find the right place to start answering. They had turned onto the deserted main road, heading out of the city on Edward's instruction.

The human looked pale as he recounted the events. "Bromley had Audrey in his office, draining her. When I arrived, he told me about how they had succeeded with a substitute blood source. But it was never the objective to stop the farming. Just another way to make money while stopping the chaos of starvation"

The brunette beside her spoke up. "Edward told him there was no need for it anymore. He found a cure for vampirism"

That hit home like a club against the back of her head. Alison felt as though she was processing the information far too slowly and quickly at once. A legitimate way to become human again – were they telling the truth? They had to be, judging by the transformation she saw in Edward Dalton. How did it work? How could she get to it? Was there even enough? It could be the answer to everything, the human race would survive, return to its previous state even. It was such an overwhelming train of thought that she barely managed to keep still in her seat.

Frankie didn't utter a sound and she couldn't see his reflection in the rear view mirror. She was too elated to care for his reaction. This was _news_. This was the change she had been waiting and wishing for. Suddenly, she found herself hanging onto every word being said.

"He didn't believe it but it didn't look like he was planning to take chances either. He was going to kill us, probably drain us just to prove his power," the woman continued, "I guess it was the plan all along - he bit Ed"

Well, that was more than visible. She was drawn back to the wound with its makeshift bandage. If she just bit slightly deeper, she could start the bleeding again and taste the heat of it right from the source…

"So why aren't you dead?" the vampire soldier sounded impatient and she forced herself to look away, "How did you get out when I caught up to you?"

All eyes went back to Edward, as he turned with a tired smile tugging at his lips. There was something victorious reflected in his face. "Because Bromley didn't know that my _blood_ was the cure"

She was so enthralled by the word 'cure' that she completely missed the implication of what he was saying. Of what had happened to her father.

"How?" it was quiet but with an undertone that had Alison instinctively tense. The car went over a bump as Frankie's hands clenched violently around the wheel, sending everyone slamming against their seats. They were going cross-country now and she wasn't all too comfortable for the soldier to take his attention off the road. He was staring at his brother with wide-eyed disbelief. She glanced over at the human beside her, taking in her strained face. She was watching Frankie too, gauging the reaction.

"I'll explain. We're almost there," his brother pointed ahead to a large tree, "It'll be alright"

The younger one braked unceremoniously and without warning, throwing the inhabitants into their seatbelts again. Alison was about to raise her voice at him when he repeated, carrying a quiver in his angry tone. It was the sound of betrayal, disbelief and denial all at once, "How?"

It took her a moment to realize he wasn't talking about how things could possibly be all right after this. He wanted to know what she was also more than curious about.

"Sunlight, Frankie. Sunlight!" Edward's eyes shone with wonder, even as he pried himself out of the seatbelt, "A controlled exposure! You have to burn just long enough to get the heart beating. It's so simple, absolute genius. Nature found a way to evolve again. Once the body returns to its human state, the decontaminated blood acts as a remedy for vampirism. We become our own cure. Nobody knew because everyone that has died in the sun couldn't control the external factors. We can change everyone"

The silence that followed was deafening. Alison couldn't find her voice. It was unbelievable but at the same time, the most logical answer. It was nothing short of a miracle and despite the procedure sounding painful, she couldn't think of every wanting anything more. She would be human again.

Her bodyguard looked just as stunned and had turned away from Edward throughout his speech to stare at the wheel. Then he wordlessly eased the car forward again, although slower than before. When the vehicle finally came to a stop beneath the tree, he got out, recklessly walking into the shade. Alison was a bit surprised at the move. He seemed to be paying no mind to the danger of burning up.

Edward sighed as he watched Frankie lean against the trunk with his back to them, hands running over his head. It was a picture of defeat. "I said too much"

"He just betrayed many people for you, Ed," the woman spoke up and Alison didn't miss the way she leaned forward to place a hand on his blood-soaked arm. "He'll be on the run as much as we have"

She considered that. She hadn't even though about how Frankie would go back now. If he wouldn't be punished for leading the humans to safety, it would be for letting her disappear from under his nose. After everything, she found herself also opening her door and getting out of the car. The air here completely flooded her senses and she was reminded once again, that she hadn't experienced the outside world for weeks. The sun was bright though and it hurt her eyes more than she recalled.

Mindful of the areas that weren't shaded by the canopy, she didn't hesitate walking towards the vampire. "Frankie…"

"You must be satisfied," he cut her off, not bothering to look her in the face, "This is exactly what you've wanted"

No point denying it. "I guess it is"

When he didn't give any sign of reaction, she moved around his immobile figure in order to look him in the eye. She needed to read him, to have a semblance of an idea what was going on inside him. Unsurprisingly, he had his blank mask expression on. The look of someone trying to ignore reality.

"Listen," she tried again, fixing him with her eyes, "This doesn't need to be a terrible thing"

The mask shifted slightly, just enough to allow a sarcastic laugh to pass his lips. "You don't know what you're talking about"

She took a deep breath, knowing this could go both ways. He could fly into a rage or he could see her point. He'd understood her before, maybe he'd see eye-to-eye with her on this one. It was a long shot but she wanted to try.

"I know that what you've always wanted most, my father's appreciation, just became impossible. I know that you saved your brother because you care about him. I know that you think this is the only life for you…but you're wrong"

A muscle in his jaw jumped and he finally caught her gaze. He didn't look too pleased that she was putting it into words and the question escaped between gritted teeth. "What are you doing, Alison?"

She moved a step closer, entirely serious. "Become human again"


End file.
